Charismatic
by Beckett Simpleton
Summary: Edward and Alfons live together in Nazi Germany simply trying to get by with their heads down, but there's always a danger around the corner. You can't gain without a sacrifice, so then surely, you cannot make a sacrifice with no gain? Loose story-line with a proper ending. Not a shonen-ai or a yaoi fic. Just friendship. Warning - Swearing and the Holocaust. Set in WWII. Complete.
1. Charismatic

Alfons Heiderich was not lonely, he was _not_. He was just getting used to living on his own, that was all. Well, he'd lived on his own for the past year while he helped out at the warehouse building rockets. He was pretty sure that he would be getting a job there in the very near future, but just in case, he'd kept on at University.

The only thing was that now, he was in debt. He paid a small rent on his flat owned by Miss Gracia, which had not previously been an issue. His family were not by any means rich. No one was in Germany at the moment, what with no one having a job, and then the bloody war. But since his father had died at war six months ago, and he'd lost his mother to consumption in June, just last month, there was little way for him to pay his rent. His parents had paid half of it, as his job at the warehouse just didn't bring in enough money for him to pay rent and _live_. Fortunately, Miss Gracia, being the angel that she was, had insisted that he didn't have to pay his rent for as long as, either he got properly into the rocketry industry, or some other option arose. On top of that, she'd practically looked after him for the past five weeks. Bless her.

At the moment, Alfons was looking over the design for the latest rocket fuel prototype and trying to keep focused. At new face had showed up that morning at the warehouse. A tall man with glasses and long blonde hair with a beard. He had spoken to the manager and wandered around in one of the other rooms, so Alfons had never got a good look at him, but he had been waiting for him to leave so that he could have a good look, and the man had given him a very strange glare, as if he was surprised to see him, but trying not to show it. He recognised that man from somewhere, like the friend of a friend, but he couldn't think whose friend.

Alfons jumped in surprise when he heard a loud knock on the door to the shop downstairs. It was six o'clock. The shop was closed.

Alfons tried not to listen and stretched over the paper scattered across his little kitchen table and lay there like a student sleeping in a lecture. He was so lonely.

Downstairs, Gracia's voice came through the thin walls as it raised into her worried tone, and the deep voice of a large man came though. Alfons might usually have been mildly interested in the conversation, but just couldn't find himself to care. His mother was dead, Germany was in a crisis and there was a war going on. Who gave a shit about some guy downstairs?

He heard Miss Gracia's gentle knock on his door.

"Alfons? Are you busy? There's a Mr Hohenheim here who wants a word."

Alfons peeled his face away from the table and unfolded his tall frame from his chair, walking slowly towards the door. It was only when he began to open it that he realised that he was in no state to greet a stranger. His hair was probably sticking up at one side and his work shirt and trousers were rumpled from slouching over the table for so long. Not to mention that he probably looked like he hadn't slept for days.

But it was too late, because he'd already opened the door.

The man from the warehouse was standing slightly behind Miss Gracia though he looked quite terrifying this close up.

"Goodness, Alfons, you look terrible, are you okay?"

Alfons nodded. "Fine thank you. What's going on? Is something wrong with work?"

Gracia smiled at him. "No, no, this is Mister Van Hohenheim. He's um… Well he's got something to…" Gracia turned to Hohenheim for assistance, evidently not knowing if she was delivering the story correctly.

"Alfons Heiderich? I apologise for the inconvenience. This is purely coincidence. I happened to stop by your place of work earlier today, but this isn't about that. I understand your current situation in that you are struggling to um… find funds?"

Alfons panicked. How did this man know that the owed Gracia a month's rent, and who was he? This was so abrupt, no letter of warning, nothing! "Ah… I am- b-but I-"

"I'm not about to evict you or something like that in case that's what you were wondering, Mr Heiderich. In fact, I can solve your financial _issue_ in a way, but it's a two way deal."

"What is it, Mr Hohenheim?" he prompted, wondering what he was letting himself in for. He felt as if he were doing something shady and illegal for some reason, which was all the more daunting at the current state of Germany with the Nazis roaming around all over the place.

"It's about this flat. I am leaving for good in a week or so, and unfortunately I will be leaving behind my sixteen year old son Edward."

"Can't he go with you, where you're going?" Alfons asked. The man had a strange accent. His German was good, but it wasn't his first language, and didn't sound like his second either.

"No. He can't come with me, however Edward is a little… He's a bit… Odd-"

"Is he Jewish, Mr Hohenheim?" Alfons asked outright. Not that he, personally had anything against the Jews, but the last thing he needed to happen was to be caught hiding one, and that would do _no good_ for Miss Gracia either.

"No, I wouldn't ask that of you, but he does fit some other… _undesired_ categories. Anyway, if you could allow him to flat share with you for a while until he gets on his feet, I will be happy enough to fund both Edward and the rent on this flat."

"I don't mean to be rude, Mr Hohenheim, but I feel like I don't know what I'm letting myself in for here. What exactly is it about your son that is 'odd' and why is he being left behind? And where are you from? You're not German."

"I apologise, Mr Heiderich, I am being a little demanding, but you just _caught my eye_. No, I'm not German. I suppose you could say I am. I have lived here for a while. Edward has been here little over a week, however. I suppose you could say he is English. He speaks little German, and has no idea of the political situation. In fact, he may seem completely clueless, but I can assure you that he is in fact very clever.

But he refuses to socialise and is quite… depressed… might be the term. He's quite charismatic, at least. He's also quite badly… crippled, though it's not very apparent. Edward is not someone who can be summed up in a sentence, if you understand what I mean, Mr Heiderich."

Alfons nodded. "I… think I'd be happy to take him in… Can I maybe meet him first though? That is, if it's okay with Miss Gracia." He added hurriedly.

"Oh yes," she chipped it. "I thought the company might do you good too, Alfons."

The young German hid his blush. "When can I meet him?" Alfons started. "I'm-"

"Oh he's just downstairs if you want to meet him. I didn't want to leave him by himself in case he went off on a walk and got lost again."

Alfons decided not to comment on that last bit. Edward sounded as if he was not all there.

Van Hohenheim began to lead the way back downstairs, Alfons following behind Gracia. What the hell was he doing? He had been sleeping at his table only moments ago.

In the back room of Gracia's little flower shop, a startlingly blond boy was sitting on a little stool playing with the corner of his dark jumper. He looked up, seeming bored as they entered the room and looked back down as if he were choosing to ignore them, though much to Alfons' surprise, slowly stood and held out his hand to Alfons.

"Edward Elric," he informed the taller blonde, looking into his soul with his oddly yellow eyes.

"Alfons Heiderich, pleased to meet you," he replied in German, hoping that Edward would understand what he was talking about.

"Er… Hallo." Edward responded, which made Alfons think that possibly he had no idea what he was talking about.

Hohenheim stepped between them and spoke to Edward.

"Edward, this is Alfons _Herderich_ and hopefully you can just stay with him, while I am away? Edward?"

Alfons tried not to be intrusive and just watched Edward glaring at his father like he was the most despicable person in the world. He nodded, once, bluntly at the man, gave Gracia a slightly 'rabbit-in-the-headlights' expression and pushed past Alfons up the stairs and slammed the door.

"Like I said, he's quite charismatic." Hohenheim added weakly.


	2. Hunger Pains

**Thank you everyone who reviewed/favourited/alerted! Much appreciated.**

**Goddamn, I'm really busy, I have four big tests coming up, so I've not been on Microsoft Word for like weeks since writing the first chapter of this, and at the time, I was supposed to be doing biology revision.**

**Um, as a note, if you liked this, maybe you want to check out Failures? Just a suggestion.**

**This chapter is going to have German speaking German and Edward speaking English, just because it's less confusing that 'blah blah blah,' he said in German and such. Kay?**

**Also, I will be using Google Translate, because I don't speak nearly enough German to not use it. So some translations might be slightly off.**

~*~Charismatisch~*~

Alfons opened the door to his flat after Edward and scanned the room with tired eyes. Now that he'd upped for all of this, he realised that he wasn't up for any shit that this kid could possibly give him, and approached the boy as such.

"Edward? Wo bist du? Edward?" Alfons walked past the table to see Edward standing by the door to his room looking like some kind of furnishing. Suddenly, the German became aware that the situation was incredibly awkward.

"Er… How is you?"

Edward continued to stare at him as if sizing him up. "Gut, danke." He said shortly, making it obvious who would be leading the conversation.

"Das ist mein zimmer…"

Edward looked at him blankly. He pointed at the door on his right, and then at Alfons. "Yours?" he asked. Alfons nodded, thanking that Edward seemed to have a bearable understanding of German. The last time Alfons had spoken English had been in school, and though he'd been good, he'd never _really_ learned the language, just a lot of complicated grammar rules.

"Sitzen?" he suggested, indicating the table beside him. Edward obviously got it, because he walked stiffly over and sat heavily. Alfons tried to work out how he could possibly be crippled while hurriedly tidying his papers from the table.

"Sie möchten Deutschland?" Alfons asked, as it was the only thing he could think to say. Edward just stared.

"Pardon?"

"Er… It's gut? Deutschland?" Edward's eyebrows raised in comprehension, but he just shrugged in answer. "Mmm." He said, noncommittally.

Alfons hoped that Mr Hohenheim would be coming back from wherever soon, because his son was turning out to be unbearable.

There was a long silence, through which Alfons stood with a stack of papers in his hands and Edward sat, staring at him unnervingly until, surprisingly, Edward spoke up.

"Alphonse?" he asked. Alfons was thrown. Was Edward translating his name, or… or what?"

"Alfons." The German corrected. "'F'"

"You are Alphonse Elric." Edward stated as if this were an obvious fact. Alfons was utterly confused by it however.

"Nein. Alfons Heiderich. Edward's father spoke." Shit that didn't come out right, he thought to himself, but Edward's comprehension skills were good enough to make up.

Edward kept holding his gaze with his sad, but calculating, clever eyes. Eventually, he looked down. "Pardon." He said again. "Pardon, Alfons Heiderich. Danke. Mein papa ist ein bastard."

Alfons laughed, though he really shouldn't. "Er schien angenehm." Alfons commented, remembering the man he saw. Not particularly doting, but a good man, and he seemed to like his son. And respect his personality.

"Pardon?"

"Are you searching for Entschuldigung?" Alfons asked, smiling slightly. He imagined that once he and Edward could understand one another, they might get along, but at the moment, things were strained.

"'Entschuldigung' ist 'sorry'?"

"Ja."

"Entschuldigung."

"Schon gut."

~*~ Charismatisch~*~

In the end, even though it had seemed rude, Alfons had sat down with a book, clearly indicating to Edward that his bookshelf was open to him. Edward was sitting at the other side of the room at the table with a dictionary. Not that it really helped, since it was just a normal dictionary, and the definitions were in German, but Edward seemed pretty confident that he could learn the language simply by reading a lot and guessing.

Alfons would have been quite happy to sit there and read until going to bed if Edward's stomach hadn't snapped him back to reality.

Alfons felt incredibly horrid and felt himself turn red as Edward's stomach continued to growl and Edward continued to ignore it completely. But then again, if Edward was hungry, he really should have said.

"Edward?" Edward looked up from his dictionary.

"You are um…" The English wouldn't come. Alfons scanned though his mind to try and find that word. Maybe he should have continued studying English instead of dropping it…

"Food," he substituted. 'Edward, you are food?" Shit. He sounded like an idiot.

"Ich bin hungrig," Edward agreed in perfect German. For someone who was clearly able to ignore his hunger, Alfons wondered why he had that phrase at his disposal.

Alfons mentally pictured his cupboards. Not much. Damn. Well, he hadn't been shopping lately, and Gracia had taken it upon herself to make sure that he didn't starve.

"Not much food, Edward, sorry."

"Why ask then?"

He had a point there. "Sorry."

"S-Schon gut?"

"Ja."

Edward smiled. New phrase for the book.

"Takeaway?"

Alfons was a little thrown by that. What he knew about English, that phrase didn't match anything to do with 'sorry' or food!

"Take me away?" Alfons took a blind stab.

Edward laughed. It was the first time Alfons had seen Edward laugh, and it was a pretty sight. Edward definitely suited laughing as opposed to sulking. He found himself hoping he could become the kind of person who would make Edward smile more often.

Edward wiped the tears from his eyes. "Take food away! Take the food out of the shop and eat it, silly! Like Chinese food, or Indian food!"

Alfons gave him a blank look. "Chinese food? Where?"

Edward whacked his forehead off the table.

"Never mind. Uncultured other world," he muttered.

Alfons didn't really get what Edward had just said, but it didn't sound like a compliment. He chose to ignore it.

"Kneipe?" Alfons asked, somewhat hopefully. Edward was sixteen, right?

"Ich bin HUNGRY. Food. You alcoholic."

Apparently Edward knew that word. Though in all fairness, he had just changed the subject from food to alcohol. Hmm…

"Edward like würstchen?"

Edward raised an eyebrow at him and went back to his dictionary, apparently deciding that he was not worth talking to. Alfons found himself quite offended and raised his voice more than he really needed to.

"Hay! Sausage! I mean sausage! You like?"

Edward shrugged. "Who doesn't?"

Alfons took that as a yes. Everybody liked sausages, right? Unless you were a vegetarian.

"Let us buy sausage." Alfons insisted; standing and so sort of forcing Edward to come along.

Edward tailed behind him, muttering something in English. Why did Alfons get the impression that Edward wasn't really English? He knew that he obviously was, since he spoke the language without an American accent. But he didn't really look very English. There was something a bit foreign about him. If it wasn't the eyes, Edward was very slightly tanned and just… Alfons felt like he was missing something.

"Where are you boys off to?" Gracia asked, having apparently heard them coming downstairs into the shop.

"We're going to buy some sausages," Alfons told her, smiling. The smile abruptly slid of his face when Gracia continued to stare at him.

"Alfons, it's Sunday. The shops aren't open at all, never mind at eight o'clock."

Apparently, Edward had got that, because he growled and punched the wall. It seemed he'd been looking forward to sausages.

Alfons, now quite embarrassed, also felt quite bad for Edward. Though really, if he'd had some warning, he would have gotten in some food! But Hohenheim had just turned up! Also, he wasn't Edward's father! Surely the boy could look after himself to some extent.

"Well…" Alfons started in an attempt to defend himself. Gracia cut him off however.

"If you guys are that desperate, I'm sure I could whip something up." She offered. Alfons was starting to think she actually enjoyed taking care of them, though he still felt bad for imposing. "I'm not actually hungry, but Edward's practically starving. I'm sure he'd appreciate the offer."

Edward had zoned out of the conversation and was wandering around the dark flower shop. He looked up at them when he heard his name. Ignoring the conversation topic, he pointed at some flowers.

"Flowers." He stated, requesting the translation.

"Blume." Gracia supplied. Edward them indicated the whole building.

"Shop." Gracia, again, translated.

"Blume Bestellen. Ich lebe in wohnung oben blume bestellen."

Gracia raised an eyebrow before approving. Edward gave a little self-satisfied smirk and muttered again in English. Alfons was beginning to think that Edward was thinking of the German language as an enemy to be defeated rather than something to be learned.

He exchanged a shrug with Gracia and followed her inside, gesturing for Edward to follow.

~*~ Charismatisch~*~

While Gracia made Edward his beloved sausages, Edward wandered around the front room pointing out random objects and demanding Alfons give him translations. Not only did Edward learn a lot of German, but Alfons inadvertently picked up lot of English.

Also, Alfons discovered why someone who could ignore his own bodily functions for so long would know how to say he was hungry. Edward practically inhaled all of the sausages that Gracia owned, and then, because he didn't have to cook it, an awful lot of cheese.

They would make a point of going shopping tomorrow. He hoped that Edward's father took into consideration how much his son ate when sending Edward money.

**I didn't initially mean for these to be consecutive, but I didn't want to really skip out on their first conversation. I hope you approve of the layout and how the languages were handled. Also, I have an odd obsession over Germany for no apparent reason, so I was quite happy to extend my vocabulary!**

**Feedback is appreciated!**

**~BS**


	3. Aufwachen

**Hay everyone! I got a lot of lovely reviews! Thank you so much!**

Alfons lay on his back in bed, worrying. The night was cold and sharp, and the old building did nothing to help the bitter wind that howled outside and rattled the windows. He wondered if it was strong enough to blow things over. Would there be trouble getting to work in the morning? He hoped not. The cold now, inside his house, in bed, was causing a sharp pain across his chest. He really didn't want to be out in it.

Alfons had never really perfected the art of ignoring the blind panic that came with not _really_ being able to breathe. He still over stepped his physical boundaries and tried to sigh every now and again, only to be felled by the tight sensation around his ribs that felt as if his torso had been bound tightly by a rope. And then that twinge would make him wince and cough sharply.

He'd been so busy with Edward, he'd forgotten all about the consumption.

Oh shit. Consumption!

He hadn't mentioned anything to either Edward or Hohenheim about his incredibly contagious, probably fatal, painful, disgusting disease. In fact, not even Gracia knew about it. He was such a prick really, putting all the people close to him in danger like that, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to put a distance between himself and the people he knew, to label himself, like some kind of leper whom no one would touch.

He was only eighteen! His life was short as it was! He didn't want to spend his few years before his disease ate away at him, homeless, friendless and alone. The thought terrified him, because he knew he belonged there.

Poor Edward. He'd been slightly against the kid at first, simply because he'd been in a bad mood, but he was alright, deep down. A little impulsive, and violent, it seemed, but a good guy. He was quirky, in a lot of ways, and Alfons often found himself laughing when he pronounced something German so wrong, that it sounded like another word, and then Edward being so embarrassed that he would argue _with the German_ claiming that the way he said it was right.

Also, it seemed that Edward's mother was nowhere to be seen. It was very possible that she was dead, though he'd never asked. Edward clearly wasn't partial to his father, and had been through a lot. You could tell just from his eyes.

Alfons allowed his mind to drift a little towards slightly more trivial things than the weight of his looming death-by-TB. Did Edward have papers? He hoped so. He didn't even know what nationality Edward was, though it would be nice if his father had taken care of that for him. He supposed things would be easier if he was English. Apparently, the Nazi's had deemed that a decent enough race. Alfons snorted. What was going to become of his country? Not that he could really rebel. He supposed that things wouldn't be too bad, as long as Edward wasn't Jewish, and his father had assured him that it wasn't the case. Alfons hoped that was true. He really didn't need that kind of shit.

Though it wasn't just the Jews the Nazi's were out to get. Any imperfection was a big deal. If it wasn't for the consumption, then Alfons was lucky to be in the perfect category, being Aryan and all. Alfons rolled onto his stomach. He really didn't want Edward taken away. He wouldn't wish that upon anyone.

Also, he needed to improve Edward's German, and soon. Not only was it a great annoyance, since they couldn't really get to know each other because of the language barrier, people would stare.

Alfons coughed into his pillow. No blood, just barking today. He huffed into the slightly-harder-than-satisfactory object and noticed that if he actually restricted his oxygen flow, the consumption induced shortness of breath was less noticeable. He lay face-down into his pillow for a good few hours before his mind cleared enough to allow him to sleep.

It wasn't long after that that he was jerked violently awake by a series of tormented screams. Trying to stop his heart from jumping out of his mouth, Alfons righted himself and tried to figure out what had happened. Who could be screaming? There was no one- oh, right. Edward.

Alfons sat in the cold blackness hugging his pillow with the blankets pooling around him, wondering what to do while Edward screeched, chocking out sobs in the other room. Should he go in, or wait for it all to pass?

About a minute later and Edward was still obviously trapped in what Alfons assumed to be a nightmare, and decided that he had to walk in Edward's personal space to avoid waking up the country.

He walked swiftly to Edward's room, the cold wooden floors nipping at his feet. He pulled his pyjama sleeves over his hands. It really was a cold night.

Gently, he pushed open the door to Edward's room, though all his noise was drowned out by Edward anyway. Through the faint moonlight struggling through the thin curtains, Alfons saw the faint outline of Edward, who was curled up right against the wall, almost falling down the side of the bed. His little form was curled up, with his back to the ceiling and he was screaming at the top of his lungs, one hand gripping his other shoulder.

Alfons stopped in his metaphorical tracks.

Where was Edward's other arm? In fact, on closer examination, Edward only had one leg, his thigh ended with some metal plate with a complicated series of indentations and wiring before his knee. Something clicked in Alfons' brain.

'Severely crippled.' So this was what Edward's father had meant. Edward must have two prosthetics; though Edward had appeared to have full use of his arm and leg. He'd have to enquire later. For now, Edward seemed to be being murdered in his sleep.

Alfons wondered how he should go about this delicate procedure. He didn't want to startle Edward, and yet, he'd better wake him up quickly before Gracia came knocking.

Alfons crawled onto Edward's bed and wrapped his arms around his torso, attempting to pull him from between the wall and the bad before he fell. Edward proved to be heavier than he looked, and also, Alfons wasn't particularly muscular so this proved a difficult task. However, Alfons put his back into it and tugged Edward back onto the bed. During the process, it seemed Edward had half woken up and proceeded to cling to Alfons with his one arm and leg. For a person lacking in the limb department, Edward was incredibly strong and held Alfons in something like a death grip. Also, he was incredibly bony, sweaty and wriggly. Alfons would rather not be hugging him, but managed to free an arm from his strong grasp and pat the younger teen awkwardly on the head. While this tactic worked in the sense that Edward was -quieter, now Alfons could understand what he was saying, to a certain extent.

"Please don't kill me. I don't want to die," the younger sobbed to Alfons, who tried to work out what these words meant. He got the general idea. Something about being against dying, but he wasn't quite exact, he knew.

Who would want to kill Edward? Alfons wondered, continuing to pat his head at the weird angle.

"Es ist nu ein schlecht traum, Edward. Aufwachen."

Edward completely ignored him. He was still quite asleep. He looked up at Alfons, though it was as if his eyes were gummed together. Alfons supposed that he was _trying _to wake up, and him talking in German probably didn't mean anything.

He didn't know the English for dream, but he could hazard at wake up.

"Stop sleeping," Alfons sort of commanded hopefully, knowing that it wasn't quite the right wording, but made enough sense.

Edward just nutted him in the chest. Alfons was thankful he was taller, or that would have been his jaw. He just sat there for a while, since he couldn't free himself until Edward either woke up, or stopped half-dreaming and waited until he was free to go back to his own bed and sleep. At least Edward was somewhat less noisy, he supposed, and his little sobs and whispered pleas wouldn't carry, but then again, he'd probably already done enough damage as it was.

Eventually, Edward seemed to wake briefly, and then fall immediately back asleep, becoming even more of a dead weight. Alfons' legs were asleep now, but at least he could move his arms. He hauled Edward's limp body off him with a sigh of relief and lay him back down. After throwing the covers back over him, Alfons turned to leave before he felt a wave of guilt. He couldn't just leave Edward to be eaten by nightmares again, surely? For some reason, he felt some kind of parental duty to stay there and watch him, and though it was a bit of an odd thought, he found himself obeying. It was only when Alfons was comfortable, but not too close to Edward to make things seem odd, and too far gone to sleep to turn back, and yet not quite without his sense, that he remembered the consumption.

Shit.

**I'm just gonna ask, would anybody want a translation for Alfons' German? The reason there is no translation currently is because I wanted to sort of re-create the not-quite-knowing what was being said and having to rely on patchy guesses, but nothing of any real importance is put in German. Also, it's kind of hard to do things like the 'take away' issue if it's in English, and then 'he said in German/English' so it comes in handy that way. **

**Thanks for following. I think chapters will stop directly following each other after this one, just as a warning. Feedback is love!**

**~BS**


	4. Rudimentary Politics

Edward was certainly different, or was it that, he'd been acting differently, and now he was himself? Alfons supposed that was probably true. It was clear what had caused it. Edward couldn't pretend to be so untouchable and tough after that night. It was clear that he had plenty of weaknesses, but as Alfons had tried to explain to Edward, it was your weaknesses that made you stronger.

Of course, it was very difficult to translate anything meaningful into English, so Edward never got that message.

Not that things between them had changed that drastically, like, Edward didn't get shy or refuse to talk to him. He just stopped being so brash and looked at him in that funny, wistful way a little more often.

And then Alfons remembered something that Edward had said when they'd first met.

"Alphonse Elric?" he asked, next time he caught Edward in the act. "You are wondering Alphonse Elric?"

Edward was evidently surprised, but he didn't seem to show evident surprise like everyone else. His eyebrows shot up, and that was it. After a moment of stammering, he finally dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets.

"Ja. I was thinking about him. You look the same."

Alfons thought that he understood what was being said, but wondered anyway. He looked like Alphonse Elric? Was that why Edward looked at him like that?

"Who is Alphonse Elric? Family?"

Edward stared at the table, looking downcast.

"Brother."

"Small Bruder."

"Little Bruder." Edward paused for a moment. "But taller," he added, and smiled slightly.

"Higher?"

"Ja."

Alfons always found it oddly amusing that when Edward was sure of a word, he'd just use it randomly, not even attempting to say the rest of the sentence in German.

"You… you miss? Er ist gone?"

Edward nodded sadly. A thought struck Alfons which made him feel a little bit awful.

"Er ist gestorben?"

"Gestorben?"

Alfons made a rather crude hand gesture of running his hand across his throat. "Gestorben."

"Dead?"

"Yes."

Edward shook his head, but he still looked incredibly sad. "Nicht Gestorben. But gone."

Alfons vaguely wondered how to say 'Will you get him back' in English while Edward kept staring at him, but it a marginally better way. Like this time, he was actually looking at Alfons and thinking of Alfons, not his brother.

"Was ist diese?" he asked, totally randomly, pulling at the front of his own shirt. Alfons looked down.

"Diese?" He asked, pulling at his braces.

"Ja."

"Er…" How did you translate _that_? Assuming Edward wanted a translation. He might just actually not know what they were. "Hosenträger."

Edward stared at him a little more, and then stood up; lifted up that goddamn muscle vest he always wore and pointed at the leather running around his waist. "Belt," he told Alfons. "Get one."

~*~Charismatisch~*~

After he'd demanded that Edward dressed in proper clothes (turning down leather trousers) so that in the end, Edward ended up wearing a white shirt, trousers and a vest, which he kept complaining about because 'what was the point of a jumper with no sleeves!'

After Edward looked respectable, he dragged him out the house and took him on something of a sightseeing tour, but it felt more like he was guiding around a clueless exchange student.

"Was das?" He asked, pointing at a car.

"Ein Auto."

"A car."

"Das auto est parkend auf der…" Edward stopped and indicated the road. Alfons rolled his eyes a little. He felt like some kind of service.

"Straße."

"Das auto est parkend auf der Straße vor der bibliothek."

Alfons clapped rather sarcastically, though Edward did look pleased with himself. Edward pointed at the library. "Bibliothek. Wer gehen in." He commanded, striding towards it purposefully.

Alfons shrugged and followed. Edward did love his books. He doubted they'd be able to pass any book shop, so he mentally modified his route so that they passed as few as possible. It was getting annoying.

"You are talking good," Alfons commented, wandering idly behind Edward as he strode purposefully around the shop. They found themselves in the geography section and Edward pulled down an atlas, a book on the geography of Germany and a German to English dictionary. It was only afterward that Alfons realised that Edward seemed to be making things hard for himself on purpose when translating, since there had been English to German dictionaries there too.

About two paces from the counter, Edward turned expectantly to Alfons. "You have a library card, right?" He asked, though Alfons was more than slightly lost.

"A card, to get books? You have one? Buch, ja?"

"Ja," agreed Alfons. They were indeed books.

"Nehmen buch haus?"

"…Ja." Why was Edward asking if he could take the books home? This was a library! Of course he was allowed- Oh…

Alfons pulled out his wallet and removed his library card, showing it to Edward. "Dies?"

"Ja," snapped Edward, who was, for some reason unknown to Alfons, pissed off. He yanked the card from the elder with his free hand and placed the books on the counter.

Alfons left the shop with Edward, replaying the conversation and feeling slightly offended that Edward hadn't just expected him to have a library card. He was a student, and a self-proclaimed book worm. Though, then again, was that really the kind of thing he should be worrying about now?

The two young men wandered aimlessly, Alfons taking lead and pointing out things occasionally to translate for Edward, and telling him where he was. Edward seemed only half listening though. After a while, he piped up.

"Was dies?" he asked, pointing at a shop window. The shop looked closed for the day, and Alfons' eyes flicked up to the shop name.

"Buch bestellen," he said. Surely Edward could have worked that out?

"Nein," Edward continued to point at the shop window. "Dies."

On the outside of the shop window was a six pointed star drawn crudely in white tape. Alfons raised his eyebrows.

"Jude." Alfons said blankly, and continued walking. Edward lowered his pointing hand but continued to stare at the shop long enough so that he had to run to catch up with Alfons, who was already at the end of the street.

"Abwarten!" Edward shouted, before he lost him, careful not to drop the heavy library books in his arms. "Alfons."

"Den mund halten!" Alfons hissed sharply. Edward was effectively silenced; slightly shocked at the harsh behaviour of the polite man he shared a flat with.

Alfons walked swiftly back, and since Edward had considerably shorter legs, he had to almost run to keep up. Neither spoke, though Edward was bursting with questions, and finally, once they'd made it up the stairs and shut the flat door, Edward dared to speak. It wasn't like he was scared of Alfons - he wasn't a scary person. It was the whole reaction, and he wondered if it was something tabooed. Was this something to do with the war his father had mentioned?

"Alfons. Was war das?" He asked, slightly breathless from jogging home and carrying the heavy books. He dumped them on the table and kicked off his shoes by the door. "Jude. Was ist das?"

Alfons didn't speak. He coughed slightly, but refused to open his mouth, as if doing so would bring out his insides. After he won the metaphorical battle with his diaphragm, he stood straight and took Edward's atlas from the stack on the table. "Come," he said, nodding to the table and sitting himself, opening the heavy book to a map of Europe. He pointed at a green place squished betweed a pink place called 'Polen' and a yellow place called 'Frankreich'.

"Deutschland." Alfons stated. "Germany."

Edward nodded, wondering what this had to do with the star. He then pointed at a little island away from the mainland containing Germany.

"England." He told Edward, who was now getting the geographic relation between England and Germany, but still not seeing where the star came into this, nor the way Alfons had reacted.

Alfons turned the page to a map of Germany, not that he needed the map to illustrate his point, but it just helped.

"Führer von Deurschland ist Adolf Hitler," Alfons told him. Edward nodded. Okay, so they were being ruled by Hitler. He couldn't be as bad as Bradley though, so he just kept nodding. Alfons reached for a sheet of note paper and pen. On the paper he drew a cartoon smiley face – without the smile – with a severe haircut and a toothbrush moustache. On the line above, he wrote Adolf Hitler.

Edward smirked. He knew this guy! When you drew it like that, yeah, he was on posters all over the place.

Alfons ran a hand through his hair, making at stand on end. "Ja…" he muttered to himself, wondering how he was going to go about this. It was difficult enough to explain in the first place, without having a language barrier. He considered using Edward's dictionary, but couldn't be bothered to have to look up every other word.

"Okay, Adolf Hitler nein mögen Jude," he said, drawing the star Edward had seen on the window. He quickly annotated it in German and English.

"Jew…" Edward muttered, tracing the star with his finger. "Why?"

He says they're thieves, thought Alfons, wondering how he was going to get all this across to Edward without making it horribly garbled and giving him the wrong idea. He says they're vermin, with no home to go to, and that they're poisonous, and stupid, but… that's not really so. He says he'll fix Germany, and make it a stronger country… How…? It hadn't happened yet. All that had happened was that he'd made it clear he wanted rid of every minority group and that he wished to create some kind on Aryan country. A single culture country, like Japan or something.

He sighed and wrote 'Germany' and drew some hasty marks, and then crossed them out.

"Deutschland hat nein geld noch arbeit." He said, hoping that Edward would understand.

"No money…?" Edward said, slightly uncertain if he was getting this right. "No jobs?"

"Ja."

"Why?"

Alfons point blank refused to try to explain the Wall Street Crash to Edward right now, but promised he'd come back to it later. Edward agreed.

Alfons pointed at his crudely drawn Hitler again.

"Speaks to make Germany money and jobs," he said to Edward, thankful for those few words Edward had just supplied him with. "And to takeaway Jews."

Edward laughed a little at Alfons badly recalled use of the phrase 'take away.'

"Why?" He asked again. Why, to give Germany more money and jobs, would this Hitler guy decide to get rid of a certain race?

Alfons shrugged. Another thing he couldn't be bothered to go into right now. He personally hadn't voted, he hadn't been of age at the time, but he couldn't help thinking that the general population had been tricked. Surely this hadn't been what the original plan had been?

"Also Hitler speaks to just have an…" how did he translate this…? "arisch people."

"Arisch?"

Though it made him feel awful somewhere in his stomach – though he didn't know why, it was simply how he was – Alfons indicated himself, more specifically his white-blonde hair and cyan eyes. "Arisch."

Edward made no indication that he understood, but Alfons got the feeling it was simply because things were getting serious.

"Hitler wants a country full of the same race, right? So what's he going to do with everyone else?"

Alfons shrugged, his eyes full of sadness. Edward was making him feel guilty, for some reason, and also, making him really doubt if Hitler and his army were really out to do any good, swarming the street like bugs, seemingly not dangerous, but actually, you wouldn't want to get too close.

Edward was mulling over what he'd managed to get of what Alfons had said to him. This place was really screwed up, if that was the case. So, Germany had no jobs (something to do with another war, he recalled) and because of something hard to explain, had no money, and so this guy came along and just told them he was going to fix it all. Ha. Edward was a bit annoyed that this country had fallen for that, because this Hitler guy sounded like a total madman, though he supposed in their situation… Hitler was powerful, and they were desperate, but… wasn't that power kind of being abused?

And then a daunting thought struck him.

If Hitler was creating a country of one perfect race, where did he come in?

**I think I got Hosenträger right. Because you see, in England, braces are the things on your teeth, and the things you hold your trousers up with and suspenders and the things women hold their stockings up with! I have come to realise, after much confusion, that braces are suspenders in America. But since Google is American, it gets confused when I type in braces, but I am wondering in which way does German translate? To braces (UK) or to suspenders (UK)! If anyone happens to know, would they please tell me!**

**Oh, and to touch upon the subject of me aging Alfons, I wanted him to be of age, legally. Since 18 or below is the legal age pretty much everywhere except America (and 21 was too old) I went for 18.**

**And I know this might sound weird, but I prefer TB. I know more about it, and I just think it suits him better. Also, in Alfons' circumstances, it'd very likely, given the timeline. When I started being totally obsessed with A Heiderich though, I did a thorough search of pretty much every fatal lung disease that involves coughing up blood, so yeah, I know about the others. (And I know you can kind of half cure TB now, but you couldn't then!)**

**I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I think the World War from Germany's point of view is – of course really sad – but really interesting as well. I had to do a history assessment about Hitler's reign from the POV of a German and then whether, given the circumstances, I'd vote or not, and I really wanted to do this, but I left it to late and didn't have the time.**

**See you next time!**

**~BS**


	5. Incompetent

Alfons was getting steadily more and more worried about Edward. He was being awfully quiet. Not that he knew Edward a lot, though he'd obviously like to know him better, but being this quiet and still was certainly not a normal occurrence. Edward had woken up late, skipped breakfast and was now sitting on the sofa, worshiping the radio, as he had been for the past four hours with not even a book to keep him company.

"Edward, are you feeling ill?" Alfons asked, leaning over the back of the sofa to speak to his younger flat mate. Edward jumped. It seemed he'd zoned out. Gathering his composure hurriedly, he answered without turning to face Alfons.

"It's going to rain later," he said quietly. "Do not go outside."

Alfons was, to say the least; a little surprised at Edward's reply and wondered what it had to do with him being quiet and miserable. And though the sky was overcast, it didn't look like anything torrential, so he didn't see what Edward was so worried about.

"Okay, but you seem quiet, Edward. Is something wrong? Do you want me to get you a book?"

Edward just curled up tighter in the corner of the sofa. "It's not anything. I feel bad in wet weather."

Alfons still wasn't quite getting what Edward has hinting at, so he decided to just leave the matter for the time being and continue going about his daily business. Though he did heed Edward's warning, and refrained from going outside.

Good thing too, because in a few hours' time, the sky turned black and the world went disturbingly dark, despite the summer's day. From the kitchen, Alfons heard Edward give a world-weary groan.

Well, it seemed Edward could read the weather. That had to count for something. Alfons made his way back to the front room, more than anything to congratulate Edward on his future-reading powers and was startled to find Edward dry heaving over the arm of the sofa. It was pretty lucky that he'd neglected to have breakfast, since Edward had obviously not _foreseen_ that he might need a bowl.

"Jesus, Edward, are you okay?" Alfons exclaimed, wondering what he should be doing in this situation. It did not occur to him either, that getting a bowl might be a great idea for his floor. Edward ignored the elder for a bit until he stopped trying to throw up the food he never ate before he righted himself slowly, looking pale.

"As I said, I feel bad in wet weather."

You don't kid, thought Alfons, still fretting about what would be the best course of action. He'd never been around another person when they were ill. In fact, it had been years since anyone had been around him when he was ill (not counting his tuberculosis, because it had become something of a background noise) and he had no idea how to behave around Edward. The boy was indeed a boy, but he definitely was not a child, and so he rightly assumed that Edward would certainly not want to be hugged. In fact, Edward hated being a burden, and would rather that Alfons had just left him the hell alone.

But of course, that was rude, and Alfons wasn't going to stand for being pushed away.

"Edward, do you want a drink?" He asked, hoping that he wasn't going to get shouted at. Not that he was scared of Edward - just he'd rather avoid confrontation.

"Damnit, Alfons, I'm fine! Bugger off!" Which of course, made Alfons feel incredibly hurt.

"Edward, are you sure-"

"Yes, damnit! I'm fine!"

"Okay then," muttered the elder, and with that one last spark of resistance, he got up and insisted. "I'll just get you that glass of water, okay?"

Edward groaned, but made no further comment.

Alfons decided that really, he needn't take any of Edward's harsh words to heart, because that was simply the kind of person Edward was - awkward and brash. As long as he didn't do something embarrassing like _jump _at being shouted at by the younger, he'd be fine.

Edward accepted the water without any argument. In fact, Alfons could have sworn he'd smiled.

~*~ Charismatisch~*~

By evening, however, the rain hadn't let up, in fact, it was now a full-blown torrential pour-down and no one was smiling, especially not Edward. The younger had re-located to his bedroom where he lay prone under his quilt, which he'd pulled up over his head. He groaned loudly whenever thunder clapped, since any loud noise felt like a saw going through his skull.

The side effects of bad weather were definitely worse on this side of the gate.

Alfons was in a physically better state, at least, but the more ill Edward got the more prone to panicking he became. He was pretty sure Edward must have a fever, and so really, shouldn't be under the quilt, curled up like that, but since he was at risk of losing a finger due to Edward's unnaturally sharp teeth if he tried to help, he tried to tell himself that he was content to just let Edward pull through it. After all, a fever and some vomiting wouldn't kill Edward, so he wasn't going to aggravate the younger by pestering him unnecessarily.

However, just to be safe, he moved his stack of rocket schematics (that were overdue, he'd had them since he'd first met Edward!) into Edward's room and sat at the younger's desk to work on them so that he could keep an eye on the blonde.

He actually got a lot of work done, but he supposed his progress depended on the atmosphere. Alfons couldn't work when things were deadly quiet. He had to have company, or at least some background noise. Until now, he had used the radio to drive away his distracting sense of loneliness, but now, what could be considered a better work environment that a feverish, sickly Edward?

It wasn't long, however, before Alfons was interrupted again. He hadn't pain Edward much attention for the past few hours, not that the younger had been up to much, but then when Edward began to chatter away to himself, Alfons began to find the younger hard to ignore.

In another language completely that reminded Alfons of all the European languages combined, Edward rambled away in his half sleep, the blankets twisted around his and his face resolutely to the wall. Alfons huffed and pushed his nearly-finished work away before getting up and seeing what the hell Edward was doing.

Upon paying visionary attention to the other male, Alfons felt bad. Yes, it was pretty normal to assume someone with a stomach bug would be fine for a few hours, but whatever Edward seemed to have contracted (due to the weather? Alfons doubted it) seemed to have progressed enough to make the boy seem mad. (That and he was frankly disgusting and smelt of bile and sweat.)

"E-Edward?" Alfons muttered, jabbing the younger in the belly. "Wake up?"

Edward just curled away from him, muttering in that odd language. Alfons tried poking him a few more times Before going for another tactic. He went to the bathroom, filled a basin up with cold water and dropped it on Edward's head.

Well, that snapped him out of it.

~*~ Charismatisch~*~

Edward was, understandably, unimpressed and refused to talk to Alfons, who had now gotten over his guilt and was interested in what language Edward had been speaking. Edward generally refused to answer him, though occasionally graced him with a frozen glare. Alfons was not one for giving up though, and despite Edward's annoyance, persevered.

"It sounded like fancy German! Edward, come on, I know you're dying to tell me all about it! I've never heard anything like that before! Is that how you learned German so fast? Ed-"

"Will you shut up!?" Edward hissed. His headache and stomach ache had lessened now that the weather had brightened up, but he was still feeling lousy, and Alfons' cold water trick hadn't helped at all.

"I'm sorry! Just, you were jabbering away to yourself and it was sort of scary and it was the only thing I could think of to do!"

Edward huffed. "Whatever. And if I show you language I spoke, you will leave me be?"

Alfons shrugged and nodded. He'd wanted to have some kind of conversation with Edward, actually, but he supposed that if that was all he was going to get then he might as well take it rather than be greedy. Plus, he hated to push Edward. As soon as any pressure was put on him, it was like he had been forced to prove something.

"Fine. The language is Amestrian."

Alfons was stumped. "I've never heard of that language before. What country does it originate from?"

"Amestris, obviously," Edward shot back, and then calmed down, feeling sorry for Alfons. All the older man had done all day was try to make him feel better. The least he owed him was letting him know that he didn't hate him for it.

"I will talk about it later with you, when I am feeling better, yes? I can't really be bothering at this moment, to have difficult talks."

Alfons felt just a little relieved, not that he'd admit. "Okay." He agreed. He had the feeling that a bomb was about to be dropped.

**See what I did there? Bomb to be dropped, WWII? Yeah, I know, bad pun.**

**I decided not to use Japanese as Edward's native language because in FMA, the newspaper articles are written in English, and their military history is like Germany. The military uniforms are similar to the really old French ones too, but if he spoke an actual European language, then I couldn't have gotten onto the language conversation, because Alfons would recognise it. So Amestrian, by me, sounds like guttural French with the same tenses as English and no male/female nouns.**

**Anyway, I'm going to London for a week, and though I will be able to get online, I won't be able to type up chapters, so it could be a little while. Also, I will be going to Denmark a bit after that, so same story. Hope to see you soon! **

**~BS**


	6. Sanitary Sanctuary

**As a pre-warning, there is a lot of swearing in the second half of this chapter.**

"Alfons?" Edward asked conversationally whist they were out shopping – which proved more difficult with the new ration coupons that they had to use. Edward thought they were ridiculous. "Do you think Hitler would like me?"

Alfons stopped walking so abruptly, you'd think he'd been shot. Something not similar to anger soared through him. Didn't Edward _get it_!? The shop wasn't crowded, and so there was no conversation to hide what Edward had just asked him. The six other people in the little room either stopped or slowed, now intrigued in what was going on. One young lady with her young son peering over her shoulder shot Edward a look that was something like fear with a tinge of disgust before she opened the door to leave. Alfons slowly turned to look at Edward, and though he didn't frown, the look in his eyes was something Edward hadn't seen before. Generally, age was irrelevant to Edward, but the look in Alfons' eyes held the look of a very annoyed father who was going to 'talk to him about that later.'

Edward managed to hide his flinch and corrected himself. He realised he'd just said something he shouldn't have, but still decided to cover up his mistake to the public, even if Alfons wouldn't buy it.

"I mean-" he gave a short laugh "I look like a bit of an oddity, right!? It is a pity I do not look more like you, Big Brother! Hitler seems to take such pride in his own appearance! I think I would look more like a man if I grew a moustache!"

Alfons quickly cottoned on and stopped glaring at Edward and continued with what he was doing, talking to Edward at the same time.

"You'd look more like a man if you cut off that stupid hair!" He replied. Edward, now sort of getting into the new conversation, threw himself into it and soon the two of then ended up in something of an argument about Edward's various short comings. One or two people stifled a short snort of laughter, and by the time they left, everyone had turned away.

Edward was all up for continuing the conversation until they got home, but it appeared that Alfons wasn't having it, and was actually a pretty good actor.

"No, Edward. Wait until we get home."

Edward was effectively silenced and left to dwell, but he didn't find himself thinking about what he'd said that had offended Alfons, but what had offended himself.

He'd called Alfons 'Big Brother.' The recollection left him feeling somewhat traitorous, but it also made him wonder how Alphonse saw him. He didn't see Alfons as an elder brother, he'd just said it at the time to fluff up what he was saying, but it made him think, it was nice, feeling cared about by someone older than you, who had responsibility over you. Of course, there had been Hohenheim, but he didn't like Hohenheim, so he didn't count.

Above that traitorous feeling, it also gave him some pride – and for once, that pride was in himself. At least he knew that if he'd bollocked up everything else for Alphonse, he must have felt cared for, because damnit, he'd tried so hard, and now he knew how much that made someone happy.

Feeling slightly consoled, Alfons' wrath left his mind and the walk home was much nicer for him. You could say that the bags felt lighter, but they only thing of any substantial weight that they could buy by the kilo now was potatoes, and Alfons was carrying them.

~*~ Charismatisch ~*~

When they got back, however, Edward very quickly remembered what the whole problem had been about.

"What the _hell_ Edward!?" Alfons hissed and he dumped the bags on the kitchen table. A couple of potatoes rolled onto the floor. Edward was getting sick of potatoes. "I told you just not to mention Hitler, or the war, or anything to do with England or that bloody Amestris thing or Jews outside the house! It's not me that it bothers! But you know that you just say any random shit, and you don't care who you say it in front of! Everyone's on edge, don't you understand that? Haven't you ever encountered this kind of thing before?!"

Edward raised his eyebrows. "It was often frowned upon in my world to call Fuhrer King Bradley a homunculus, even though he was one." Edward told him matter-of-factly.

Alfons faltered a little. Homunculus; a small creature of human form. Their leader was a tiny human? He'd have to get into that another time.

"Okay, whatever. But when I tell you something, I'm telling you it for a reason, Edward! I'm not your parent, or your big brother, but sometimes, I lay down rules, and that's not because I'm exercising my power as the older of us, it's because there's a fucking war going on, and you have a tendency to point out Jewish shops and ask if Hitler likes your fucking haircut!"

Alfons rarely swore, was the first thing that Edward thought, and it was lucky that it came to him first, because it was for that reason alone that Edward didn't do what he would usually do, and shout back. Alfons rarely even raised his voice in anger, but evidently, Edward was frustrating him, and this realisation made the younger feel bad. What Alfons said was true. Everyone was on edge. Including Alfons.

That wonderful feeling of being cared for came back, and it made Edward want to hug the elder. Of course, he didn't. The only other encounter he'd really had of an older person caring for him, and telling him so, was his mother. Hugging his flat-mate was different to hugging his mother, though it would be marginally more acceptable than hugging Roy Mustang.

Turning the conversation to its original meaning, Edward asked his question again.

"But what I said, I meant. Would Hitler… like me? If you know what I mean…"

Alfons slowly came down from his rage and felt slightly ashamed of himself for blowing up over what Edward had said, now that there was no anger in him to fuel his point. He rarely lost his temper. Maybe this was why.

"Probably not, Edward. He's a picky guy, but you don't strike me as the kind of person who wants to get into Hitler's good books."

Edward shrugged. "It is not that, it is just that I would rather be his little kiss-arse pretty boy than be killed right now. If this was in my world, I would have tried to kill him a few times by now, but I do not want to die here. I have things I need to do when I get home."

Since the language conversation, Edward often spoke freely about his home, which Alfons supposed was Amestris, but whenever Alfons actually asked him about it, Edward turned the topic down. It confused the German, since Edward often dropped hints, seemingly without knowing. He'd delve into that later with Edward, he supposed he should stay on topic.

"Edward, he's probably never going to notice you, as long as you keep your head down and follow the rules. You're a good person, you don't deserve to be taken to workers' camps, or be shot, or anything, so I don't think you should really worry."

Edward gave him a horrible, withering look of disgust, and Alfons realised what he'd just said, but not in time to correct himself before Edward reprimanded him for it.

"And all those other people did deserve it, did they? This is not about good people and bad people, Alfons! In case you have not noticed, your country is being run by a mad-man racist arse-hole who thinks he can make a country that is not his own – he is Austrian – by killing off half the population because he doesn't like them! Have you been listening to the radio? 'Beggars will be sent to workers' camps' 'Jews are not allowed to marry Germans' 'alcoholics are to be sent to workers' camps' and Jews must shop between, what was it? 3 and 5 pm? But that won't happen to you Edward, because you are a nice person.

I'm jobless, I don't go to school, I don't go to his stupid fucking kid's camp whatever the fuck it is. I'm not Aryan, I'm foreign, and I'm this close to being a fucking cripple."

Edward held up his forefinger and thumb about half an inch apart to illustrate his point. Alfons just stood there with his eyebrows raised. He knew of the situation in his own country, and he didn't need Edward to shout it out to him. If the younger had just held on for a few seconds, he would have apologised for his mistake and corrected himself. He glossed smoothly over what Edward had said, but as he opened his mouth to reply, the radio, which had been babbling away to itself in the background now caught both of their attentions.

"'…Adolf Hitler has received a 90% vote in his favour to give him full power as the Fuhrer of Germany…'"

Edward drew Alfons out of his astonished stare by slapping himself sharply in the forehead.

"Edward, what the hell-?"

"Is this country completely _feckless_!?"

Under any other circumstances, Alfons would have defended his country against a foul mouthed foreigner, but in this case, hearing it from someone who was seeing things raw, almost though the eyes of a child, he couldn't deny that some part of him felt that same feeling of utter disbelief and abandonment. Though every other German did not have a cynical foreigner from 'another world' like Edward to tell them things from a child's and often from an emotionless point of view.

In all his frustration, Alfons silently cried.

**I really hope I didn't offend anybody here. I'm not going to pansy around how I want the characters to act though. I'm not writing this from the point of view of a Brit I become a 14 year old German when writing this! No, kidding - but please try to see everything I've made the characters say as something I've made the characters say, and not something I've made them say for me.**

**I was going to do a chapter about the other world thing, but I found this a more interesting topic. By the way, the time is now roughly August 1934. I'm glad I started this in July, so I can say it was July '34, and get all this stuff in that starts to happen between July and Feb of 1940, when the first Jews were sent to Auschwitz. It's a big time gap, but SHAMBALLA DOESN'T HAPPEN! So I can do whatever I like! Woop!**

**I did have a timeline open while doing this, so things are vaguely in the right order. I love writing about the radio! We don't use it anymore except in the car!**

**Have you noticed how much Edward's German has imporved. If you haven't noticed, I still have him saying do not and I shall and not don't and I'll, but I think next chapter, he'll be fluent. He's been with Alfons 'two months now.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated!**

**~BS**


	7. Malicious Intentions

**I know I should cover the revelation of Edward's world to Alfons, but… I'll do it later. Aw, I just wanna write about WWII! I suppose I can try to slip it in here somewhere!**

Edward wasn't easily frightened, but he had to admit, he was quite shocked when civilians began to set buildings on fire in the middle of the night. Edward had stayed up late reading Shakespeare, something that didn't exist in Amestris. The spelling was something that Mr Shakespeare could probably have looked up on. Alfons had the original English copies, which Edward didn't really get, because Alfons' English was poor.

He was straining his eyes reading in the dim light, since Alfons had gone to bed and he didn't want to wake him up. Of course, it didn't really make much difference when a few hours later, screaming could be heard from the town centre. Edward put his book down, curious. He peered through the window, but finding that he couldn't see anything, heaved it up and stuck his head out in an attempt to get a better look. In the distance behind the houses and the little shops towards the town centre smoke could be seen rising above the rooftops and the flickering orange light that was unmistakably from a fire.

"Shit," Edward swore in Amestrian and flicked on the big lights so that he could see what he was doing.

"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered, working himself into quite a flap trying to figure out what to do. In the end, he just pushed the responsibility onto someone else.

"Alfons!" He yelled, going back to staring out of the window in horror. "_Alfons_!"

Alfons, however, wasn't moving fast enough for Edward's liking, and so the younger ran into his elder's bedroom, still shouting his name. The man in question was trying to wake himself up before Edward did something callous like throw a bucket of cold water on him.

"What's't'matt'r?" he mumbled, sitting up before his brain had figured out how far off the ground his head was, and thus giving him vertigo.

"Alfons, the market's on fire!" Edward shouted, his eyes wide, getting more and more frantic by the minute. "Come on! People are setting the shops on fire! It's going to be like the Great Fire of London again!"

Alfons was quite concerned, and willingly let himself be dragged out of bed, but failed to see what Edward was getting so hyped up about. Edward wasn't one to be a drama queen after all, and he was certainly riled up for it being so late at night.

Edward practically forced Alfons' head through the widow to look at the scene, and Alfons was, to say the least, shocked. The fire had moved rapidly from where it had been when Edward had last seen it, and it was now close enough so that the orange glow illuminated Alfons' pale face leaning out of the window clad in his stripy pyjamas.

"Oh Christ," he exclaimed, practically falling out of the window to crane his neck so that he could see the extent of the damage.

Shouts and screams could be heard not-so-far off in the town centre, only a few blocks away from where they lived, and what Edward had said seemed to be true, it wasn't just a fire, but an act of arson, and a pathetic attempt was being made to prevent and put out the fire, if any attempt at all.

Alfons pulled his head back into the house, coughing slightly at the shock of the cold night air after being so warm. Edward looked at him strangely, but Alfons just passed it off as smoke, which was a load of rubbish, clearly, as the smoke had not reached their street yet.

"We must warn Gracia," he told Edward, completely forgetting that he was wearing nothing but his pyjamas and that it was the middle of the night. The excitement and fear had him twitchy and his hands shaking slightly with adrenaline, his heart thudding frantically in his throat. Alfons threw open the door out of the flat that opened to the stairway into the shop and raced down the wooden steps. Alfons didn't do much racing and therefore stumbled and nearly fell by the time he reached the bottom. Edward swiftly descended with a lot more grace after him.

Alfons banged his fists against the door to Gracia's flat, shouting her name. When a light flicked on upstairs, Alfons finally let up, stepping back from the door and ceasing his ridiculously loud shouting. Once again, when he was quiet, Alfons looked back on how he'd just behaved and found himself a little embarrassed. Edward must have been rubbing off on him, though thankfully, not too much, since Edward never seemed to show any remorse for however stupidly and loudly he might have acted.

Gracia reached the door and slid in the latch and opened the door a crack. Edward held back a laugh. Alfons looked aghast at his own behaviour, especially when Gracia didn't recognise his voice simply because it wasn't accompanied by a polite knock and a meek 'excuse me.'

"Alfons, is that you?" She asked quietly, peeking around the door. Alfons smiled sheepishly and ran a hand through his hair, noticing in the process that he was wearing his pyjamas still. Gracia laughed at his expression, then noticed Edward standing behind the taller man. "Edward, Alfons, what's going on? It's one in the morning, you know."

Edward didn't smile at her. "Miss Gracia, there's a fire in the market square spreading up the main street."

Gracia stepped back a little in surprise. She closed the door, and then re-appeared a moment later, having taken off the latch. She stood about as smartly as Alfons in a lilac night-gown that had seen better days and a white towel dressing gown, her bare toes tugging at the carpet absently.

"What do you mean, Edward? She asked, frowning at the young man, "A fire?"

Edward nodded. "Yeah, a big fire. It looks like arson, it's spreading too quickly to be an accident." Edward told her, glancing towards the shop windows by reflex, but uselessly, since the shutters were down.

"Oh God… I wonder why… Should we…?"

"Go and help? I don't know… I wonder how dangerous it-"

Edward started to get annoyed. People on this side of the gate were such pansies. It was all 'the law' this and 'the government' that. "Of course we should help! What were you planning to do? Stand and watch!?"

"Well, Edward it's not quite-"

"Don't even start! If you can help, you should! And we can help, right? Whatever's going on out there, you and I can help!" Edward shouted in Alfons' face, some purpose that was rarely seen shining in his eyes. Alfons stepped back at the confrontation, but Edward seemed to take that as some kind of cowardice, and advanced on him again.

"Edward, I know that you generally have a way of doing things… In the moment, but you have to think about the consequences here!" Alfons defended, quickly thinking. "I you're caught helping-"

Edward actually pulled at his hair, which Alfons though was a little over dramatic. "So this is about the _Jews_ again, is it!?" He demanded, looking nothing short of livid. "I don't care what's going to happen to me anymore, I'll get to that when it comes. I don't care what you're doing, I'm going, and I'm going to help!"

Edward swept past Alfons, completely ignoring Gracia and took the door off the latch. He wrenched it open, heaved up the shutters, ducked under them and slammed the corrugated metal down after him with a resounding crash.

Alfons and Gracia were left stunned. Of course, after the shock wore off, Alfons started to feel extremely guilty. Gracia seemed to have worked that out and smiled at him.

"It's not you, it's Edward," she said. Alfons frowned at her in confusion, so she elaborated. "Edward has a very 'act now, think later' attitude towards life, he likes a fight, doesn't he? He likes to be a hero. Sometimes, you have to step back and think, you know?"

Alfons ran a hand through his hair again. "Yes, that might be true, but now I have to go after him anyway," he said with a sigh. "I'll just go and change into something more appropriate," he told her, before turning back upstairs.

~*~ Charismatisch ~*~

Alfons ran (for the first time in a long time, it was to be admitted, so there was nothing special to see) down the main street into the market square. It had been a while since he'd gone out at night, and things certainly were different in the dark. It was cold too, despite the fire blazing only a few streets away, and he felt it, having neglected to put on a coat.

"Edward!?" He yelled over the sounds of shouting and crackling that were growing louder the closer he got. "Edward!?"

Alfons knew that any attempts to locate Edward through shouting was futile, he wasn't the only person who had lost someone in the crowd.

Alfons came to a T-junction that opened into the market square, surrounded by shops, and above them flats, just like Gracia's. He slowed, taking in the sight.

The market was packed with hundreds of people, either screaming frantically up at the windows of their friends' residence, while their businesses perished in the fire or people doing all they could to make the situation worse, throwing pricks at windows or looting anything that wasn't completely destroyed by the fire.

And then there were people like Edward, who were here only either out of curiosity, or for the sole purpose of helping those who could do nothing to stop the horror that was clearly inflicted by those who had voted 'yes.'

"_Edward_!" Alfons screamed over the heads of the crowd, standing on his toes to see if he could spot that head of bright blond hair. "_Edward!_" He whipped his head back and forth, but it was hard to see anything passed the faces of the people in the foreground, doing the same as he was, yelling frantically, looking around wildly. "Shit," he cursed, pushing through the crowd gracelessly, still yelling the name of the younger man, and starting to get worried for his safety. Edward was exactly the kind of person to run into a blaze to save someone who he'd never even met, or get himself badly hurt in a fight trying to protect someone more venerable, which was a nice quality, but… things were different in the world (or _this _world as Edward would say) to how Edward thought they were in the safety of his own mind. The reward for being compulsive and coming out on top was not as high. It's always the reason, the interrogation, the means to the end.

"Edward, where the fuck-"

Alfons spotted him, lying in front of that book-shop that he'd been so intent on just a few months ago.

"Shit, Edward," he muttered, picking up the pace, not bothering to even apologise to the people that he crashed into in an attempt to get to his younger flat-mate in the least time possible. Edward had fallen on his side, facing the building and away from Alfons, and though Alfons was concerned to the point of feeling sick, he rationalised that I couldn't be that badly hurt. He was moving, and wasn't doing something morbid like lying in a pool of his own blood.

Alfons reached the younger, and pulled him up onto his lap. Edward's eyes were half open and he was mumbling something incomprehensible. There was blood on his face from a large but shallow graze on his forehead which had a nice-looking bruise forming around it. Alfons, having decided he'd live, and thankful that he hadn't found him dead, or arrested, heaved the younger into his arms so that Edward's head and arms dangled over his shoulders and staggered away from the crowds. Now that he was leaving, Alfons felt that same compulsion he assumed Edward must have had earlier, telling him that he must simply go and assist, but he ignored it. Edward was his priority. If Edward wasn't there, he'd have helped, but he could always come back later and do what he could. Edward was his responsibility.

~*~ Charismatisch ~*~

**This chapter was getting long, so I thought I'd end it here, and continue on in the next one. Don't worry, Ed's fine.**

**Alfons is quite melodramatic about conflict, but that's because he's not used to it, and so when confronted with it, he tends to think more of the worst possible scenario, or something that he has read in a book. I tried to write him like this anyway.**

**I know Alfons rarely swears, and I wasn't sure what to do about him swearing, but to put yourself in his shoes, I think he can be excused. When he was shouting for Edward, I was very tempted to put his speech in capitals, but that's something I hate doing, and generally find it unprofessional (but that's just me, so don't get offended!). But he is really hollering, over the noise of everyone else screaming. Oh I hope everyone saw that as clearly as I did, I could see every scene in my mind as I wrote it, I'm so chuffed! **

**(I want to draw the scene where they are looking out of the window!) **

**I have a lot to say this time around! Sorry!**

**I'm off to Ireland tomorrow (I know, first it was supposed to be Canada, then Denmark, and now Ireland! It's getting closer and closer to home each time! Never mind, it'll be fun!) so I won't be writing for a week again, but I got a chapter in before I leave, so GO ME!**

**And yes, this was when the Nazis staged the mass boycott of Jewish business, which (I'm sorry) was BEFORE Hitler was voted in, which happened in the last chapter. But I wanted it to happen now. I'm sorry for messing with history!**

**See you next chapter!**

**~BS **


	8. Axis

**I came across something that I didn't know had happened, and thus found that my Edward of Charismatic was in mortal danger… But not right now. I think it's a few years from now.**

Alfons finished wiping the blood from Edward's face, happy to see that you younger was making the effort to crack his eyes open. Upon coming to his senses, he held his head in his hands and groaned.

"Are you okay, Edward?" Alfons asked, kneeling down by the side of the sofa. Edward put a hand over his eyes to block the light that reached them.

"Got a massive fuckin' headache," he complained, rolling over so that he was turned away from Alfons. The elder wasn't put off, however.

"What happened? Who knocked you out?"

"Some dick-head with a brick. I wasn't fucking doing anything!" Edward growled into the sofa cushions, curling up into a ball. Alfons perched himself on the sofa arm at Edward's feet.

"I told you about being caught helping Jews. Especially in a place like that, where clearly it's full of Hitler's supporters." Alfons reminded him, rather patronisingly, if the truth must be told. Edward grumbled his reply.

"Fuck off, I had to do something!"

Alfons was quiet. Edward was right, in Edward's mind, Edward had to do something. Unfortunately, the younger had failed in his task, as it seemed, and was therefore in a bad mood.

"This country is almost as bad as Amestris. In fact, I think they might be fickin' parallels or something." Edward's comment was off-hand, but it got Alfons thinking about this whole 'Amestris' thing again.

"Edward, what's Amestris?" he asked quietly. "Tell me. You talk like you lived there, but it doesn't exist, right?"

Edward rolled himself back around and faced Alfons with a peculiar look on his face. "Why are you so intent on knowing?" He asked, dodging the question.

Alfons thought about it properly. Why was he? Why did it even bother him in the slightest? Well, for a start, it offended him. Edward often talked as if this world were the imaginary one, and 'Amestris' were the real one. He'd never really bothered to involve himself in Germany at all, it was like he was a ghost. Nothing about the placed seemed to spark any kind of emotion in him, except, it seemed, his strong sense of justice. Something in Alfons liked all this chaos, because it made Edward seem more real.

And then there was just good old curiosity. Edward said there was another place, which didn't exist, called Amestris, in which he lived, and somehow, he'd ended up here. It sparked that same curiosity that going up to the stars and the mood did in him. Alfons was just a curious person.

He compressed his thoughts into something easier to say out loud and told Edward, who raised his eyebrows.

And smiled.

"Okay, but you have to promise, if you think I'm mad, you won't tell the Nazis, and you won't kick me out." His grin was a little terrifying, and made Alfons reconsider how much he actually wanted to know about the authenticity of Edward's 'Little World.'

He nodded in spite of himself. "Okay, I promise."

Edward sat up, and looked as if he were steeling himself to tell a long story.

"I was born in a place called Resembool which is a tiny farming village in the south east of Amestris. The capital city of Amestris is called Central City. It's a military run country that is prone to wars, and had a massive civil war while I was a child. I have a younger brother who is called Alphonse Elric."

"Yes, I remember you saying." Alfons interjected.

"Good. Well anyway, our father left home when he were just kids, and a couple of years later, our mother, Trisha Elric died."

"Oh, Edward-"

"Don't you dare say sorry. Anyway, in Amestris, there's… Look, it's not magic, okay? There's this thing called Alchemy-"

"Yes," Alfons interrupted. "I've heard of that. It's got something to do with the elements, and the philosopher's stone and turning lead into gold, right?"

Edward shrugged, clearly not impressed with Alfons' explanation of his well-practiced art, but deciding it was satisfactory.

"Very basically, yes. Well while here, engineering and mechanics and such prevails, alchemy does in my world. Also we have better prosthetics," he added. Alfons raised his eyebrows, but didn't interrupt.

"Anyway, my country was hell bent on being at war constantly, kind of like this one-"

"Hay!" Alfons objected. "We certainly are not! We just-"

Edward gave him a challenging look. "If Britain and America find out about this, there's going to be another huge war, I can see it."

"Why's that?" Asked Alfons, allowing himself to go off topic. Edward seemed to go into know-it-all mode.

"Well, Hitler's planning to invade Austria, right?"

"Is he?" Asked Alfons, bewildered.

"Well, I think so, it certainly seems like it. Anyway, why invade Austria? Other than to gain ground and troops? He's going to try to invade Russia, I bet. Not that he'll win. Russia's huge. And he'll probably invade France. Not that that'll take much."

"And how do you come up with this? You're making it sound like Hitler's trying to take over the world."

Edward just looked at him.

"Well, he's not!" Alfons objected to the stare that he correctly interpreted as 'well, yes.'

"Look, this is off the topic. Anyway _as I was saying_, my country was a place of constant war. Not that it would have been a problem, but I was in the military-"

Alfons chocked. "You were _what_!?" He exclaimed, staring at Edward with wide eyes. "There's no way they'd let you in! You're too young!"

"I was a state alchemist! I wasn't a standard soldier, you know. I couldn't be sent out into the battlefield until I was sixteen."

Alfons decided not to point out that Edward was sixteen. "How old were you when you joined?" He asked.

"Twelve."

Alfons was a little disbelieving, but didn't pursue the subject further. "Go on."

"Well, in addition to that, there were these things called Homunculi-"

"Yes, you've mentioned that before-"

"Will you stop interrupting me!" Edward demanded, looking furious.

Alfons sank into silence and Edward continued about the corruption of the military, the gate, his father and so on. By the time he'd reached the end of his story, he'd talked through the night and it was midday.

It was only Alfons' curiosity that kept him awake and even with that, his sleep-deprived mind was giving him a hard time. He just stared at his flat mate in the silence as Edward's accusing frown deepened and deepened.

Finally, he voiced the accusation that he had been growing more sure of by the second. "You don't believe me?" He said, a little menacingly.

Alfons didn't know how to reply. In the end, he was perfectly truthful. "I don't know yet," he told Edward, still trying to figure out what was really going on here. It was a big thing to accept; the existence of another world. But it was a big thing to fabricate as well. He supposed he believed, and yet he was agnostic. Not wanting to commit himself to an answer, he continued "It's a big thing to just accept, you know? I don't have any suspicion that you're lying to me, Edward-"

"So you believe me?" Edward concluded. Alfons fidgeted. At his lack of conformation, Edward stated the other option, sounding vicious.

"You think I might be mad?"

Alfons began to panic, but still, he found it hard to commit himself to a reply, and thus making Edward more and more annoyed. Alfons' mouth opened and closed like that of a goldfish as he thought of a reply, and then dismissed it before he could voice it. What was he to say to save their friendship..?

"I do not think you're lying, and I do not think you're mad. In fact, I might think that you're telling the truth. But try to respect that you've just turned my concept of the world on its axis and give me a bit of time before I can tell you solidly that I believe in the existence of a parallel world." He asked timidly, hoping that Edward wasn't going to blow up in his face in anger. He didn't. The younger just sat staring for quite some time before getting up and leaving the room without a word, leaving Alfons sitting there, stunned.

"H-hey!" He called after the younger. "Are we still friends?" he asked childishly in his confusion. Edward's footsteps could be heard coming back towards the front room and as he stuck his head around the door frame to reply, Alfons was shocked to see that there was a broad smile and tears of laughter on his face.

"Yes, don't panic," he assured, smiling. Alfons didn't smile back, still puzzled.

"Why are you laughing? What's funny?" He asked, bewildered by the other's behaviour. Edward's smile did not disappear even though his answer was somewhat sombre.

"Nothing's funny. I just needed a laugh."

**Has anybody realised what I'm doing with the chapter names?**

**I'm kind of anxious to know what you think of this chapter, because I feel as if the dialogue/emotional ratio is uneven and that there is too much speech, and not enough knowing how the characters feel, or their thoughts.**

**I've never fully understood to plot of the first anime, because I missed some crucial episodes, and it's too expensive to buy on DVD for me, so I just glossed over that whole issue! **

**There you go, I finally got around to doing the other world thing, and I'm glad I left it open, because I do love writing Alfons' thoughts! (as you might have guessed by now.)These aren't really like one-shots anymore, and just a story with a very loose plot line. Which is nice, not having to stick to a set of events (other than those of WWII!) and being able to write about whatever I wish!**

**I'm back at school after the summer holidays now, so updates will be a lot harder, since I have just started my GCSEs. Please understand. I want to write this story, you know! **

**Please leave a review, and I'll see you next chapter!**

**~BS**


	9. Take Over

**For once, it was easy to think of a title for this chapter. Take Over. **

**(I'm sorry that it seems like the boys don't age during this timeline, but I think I'll keep it like that. This story doesn't seem to have any rules or anything to keep it in order!)**

**It is now March, 1938 to September 1939. Do the boys age in this chapter which covers a year? Um… No. Ha ha!**

**March 12****th**** '38**

"Germany has invaded Austria."

Alfons and Edward were sat eating eggs and bacon, which had taken a lot of saving up to acquire, so for once, Edward was eating slowly and appreciating the taste.

Of course, something had to spoil it.

"I bloody told you he was going to!" Edward grumbled, viciously dissecting a bit of bacon. "Didn't I?"

"You did," Alfons surrendered, knowing that it was no use arguing his point.

Edward looked over Alfons' shoulder to the kitchen bench where the wireless sat and scowled at it.

"Damn radio. You'd think it'd know when to shut up," he said, his face grumpy. Alfons nearly smiled.

His country was heading for war.

~*~ Charismatisch ~*~

**August 11****th**** '38**

"Nazi troops have set fire to a Jewish synagogue in Nuremberg."

It was 1 o'clock in the morning. Edward knew he shouldn't complain, because the radio babbling away to itself quietly on the desk in his room was the only thing keeping him awake and his nightmares away, but it was a blessing and a curse. It kept him awake, but at the same time, poured more horrible images of fire, massacre and death into his already overloaded mind. Edward groaned and rolled over, pulling the duvet over his head.

He'd always thought he'd had things bad. He'd always thought that his own world had been bad for killing off races but this was extreme, a lot more scary, and a lot closer to home.

Edward consoled himself to another sleepless night with the thought that, at least he wasn't Jewish.

~*~ Charismatisch ~*~

**October 28****th**** '38**

"There has been a mass arrest of 17,000 Polish Jews in Germany over the last few months. Today they were banished to Poland, who refused them entry. These people are now living in no-man's-land between Poland and Germany. There have been no further announcements on where these people will be residing."

Alfons groaned and dropped his face into his book. "Jesus Christ.."

"Wha..?" Edward mumbled. Edward had started a habit of falling asleep on the hard wooden chairs at the kitchen table. Alfons had just recently learned that Edward had developed a kind of 'self-inflicted-insomnia' where he'd refused to sleep for so long that now he actually could not sleep at all at night. At first, Alfons had attempted to wake up Edward and take him to his room, but Edward had hit him, saying that he'd just woke him up from his first wink of sleep in a month, and then proceeded to try to fall asleep at the table again.

"The SS've kicked 17,000 people out of the country." Alfons elaborated. Edward sighed and rubbed his eyes with his fists like a tired child.

"Jews?" he asked quietly. Alfons looked at Edward's bleary expression with slight pity. Edward was grey with bags under his eyes so dark it looked like he'd been punched in the face. The bruising on his forehead had long since gone, but there was still a pale scar running across his forehead.

"What do you think?"

~*~ Charismatisch ~*~

**January 30****th**** '39**

"'In the course of my life I have very often been a prophet, and have usually been ridiculed for it. During the time of my struggle for power it was in the first instance only the Jewish race that received my prophecies with laughter when I said that I would one day take over the leadership of the State, and with it that of the whole nation, and that I would then among other things settle the Jewish problem. Their laughter was uproarious, but I think that for some time now they have been laughing on the other side of their face. Today I will once more be a prophet: if the international Jewish financiers in and outside Europe should succeed in plunging the nations once more into a world war, then the result will not be the Bolshevizing of the earth, and thus the victory of Jewry, but the annihilation of the Jewish race in Europe!'"

"What did that even mean?" groaned Edward, who was trying to force his brain to work and he rubbed his hands together which were bright red with the biting cold. "I wish politicians wouldn't talk in jargon. It's such bollocks. No one can understand what he's on about-"

"He's saying," Alfons told him in undertones, "that the Jews aren't going fast enough."

Edward didn't reply for a while, letting the crowd mill around him as he watched his breath escaping him in clouds and dissipating in the January chill. He rubbed his ears.

"I've fucking had enough of this." He turned from Alfons, pushing his way out of the crowd. When the sea of people cleared, but for Alfons trying to catch up with him before he lost the shorter man, Edward spat on the ground and began to make his way back through the streets of Munich, Alfons scurrying behind him.

~*~ Charismatisch ~*~

**September 3****rd**** '39**

"Edward?"

This was not the first time Alfons had woken up to terrified screaming. Edward had fallen asleep on the sofa, so Alfons had just left him there and went to bed himself, not wanting to wake Edward up and receive a punch in the face again. However, when Edward fell asleep in the day, it seemed his nightmares didn't happen so much, but if Edward slept at night, they were almost guaranteed to happen.

Alfons dragged himself out of bed, coughing slightly and rubbing his eyes with his hands. He shivered as the cold crawled up from the floorboards onto his feet, up his legs and his spine.

This was becoming too much of a regular routine.

"Edward, are you awake?"

Edward was sitting bolt upright in the front room, the blanket that Alfons had thrown over him earlier that night in a heap on the floor.

"A-Alfons?" he squeaked, jumping visibly as he heard the elder speak.

"It's me. Edward, if you are going to keep this up, you're going to wake up the whole street-"

"Alfons, I can't live here anymore." Edward told him in a tiny voice.

"What? What's wrong with here? This house, do you mean?"

"No… This world." Alfons could hear the tears in his voice, and felt he should probably step closer, but he didn't want to witness Edward cry.

"Edward, don't start with the 'This World' thing again… Please, not so late at night-"

"Alfons, this is scary."

Alfons stopped speaking. Edward didn't just admit fear for nothing. Tentatively, the stepped further into the room.

"What is, Edward?" he asked, though it was a stupid question. He knew the answer too.

"This country, Hitler, the Nazis, it's scary. It's like a horror film. In my world, there was a race exterminated, as there was here, the Xeruxeans, but… Well, it wasn't like this. This it too… it's too close, it's too dark, well thought out and… heartless. I feel like I'm in an apocalyptic book. Alfons, I'm just sick of hearing one more thing I have to worry about. I'm sick of hearing about another fire, another death, another law, another country that's been invaded. Let's go. Let's just go." Edward hid his face in his arms, not looking at his flat mate. Alfons sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I can't leave." He told the younger. "This is my country, this is my home, and this is my world. I can't just abandon it because things are scary, Edward. I'm sure you'd feel the same if this were your world."

"Well it's okay for you, isn't it?" Edward hissed bitterly. Alfons was appalled. He had no idea what he was being accused of, but whatever it was, it seemed a little uncalled for.

"How so?"

"Well you're 'perfect,' aren't you? Must be nice, to know that you're safe from a madman, is it? While everyone else is being carted away to Poland, or locked up in ghettos, or just being shot on the spot for how they look, and who they are and where they come from and what they believe. Stupid fucking German, Christian, blond, perfect twat-face, blue eyes madman's pet."

Alfons raised his eyebrows, but didn't retaliate. He was not going to get into an argument with a sleep-deprived Edward at one in the morning. After all, the younger had every right to be terrified and though what he'd said to Alfons was unfair, most of it was true. After all, it wasn't Edward's fault that he didn't know about the…

"Well, you'll be happy to know I'm not as perfect as you think I am." Alfons confessed, feeling a little bitter saying it.

Edward seemed shocked at his choice of come-back but continued acting sorry for himself anyway. Even though it just made him seem like more of a prick.

"Oh yeah? How so?" Edward challenged.

Alfons fiddled with the corner of his pyjama shirt. Now there was no turning back, and he'd have to confess, but the thought of doing so made him sick to his stomach. After all, even though Edward was being a brat, it really wasn't his fault he'd been slung into this mess, and no one wanted to find out that they'd been sharing houseroom with a consumptive, even if it wasn't their house.

"I… I have consumption." Alfons said in a very tiny voice. Edward had no trouble hearing him, however.

But the reaction was nothing if not lacklustre. There was no screaming, no accusing, and no storming out of the room. Edward's yellow eyes (like a wolf, or a hawk or some other kind of meat-eating predator - Alfons realised - Not at all like liquid gold in the dark) just stared at him blankly, his head turned to the side, like a dog (like a wolf, like a wolf – Alfons thought, panicking).

"You've got what?"

Oh _why _did Edward have to make it so hard!? What had he done to himself? The only person who'd get close enough, and effectively, he was pushing him out of his house into the cold September mud alone while he was scared and lost in a country that he didn't know too well and he didn't even want to be there and he had that feeling that he was going to be kidnapped and taken to Poland and killed for being… him. Just to get one up on an accusation that he'd made in a moment of fear _why _did he do these things to other people? He should just live on his own.

"Just leave." Alfons said, louder than he'd thought, and he realised he was crying – why was he such a prick? "You're going to anyway. Just go. Go on. If you hate me now, it'll only get worse so you can just go."

Edward didn't cry. Of course he didn't. He didn't shout either though. This was Alfons' house, so… Edward felt as if someone had winded him and stolen his heart while he was lying gasping on the ground defenceless. There was suddenly a gaping hole in him and he had no idea how to fill it. All he could do was look up at the only man in this shit-hole fucked up world that he'd admired who was trying not to cry like a self-centred baby as he slowly stood up – his eyes never leaving Alfons.

"Okay." Edward said. He didn't know that his voice could be that small. Lately, he'd been discovering a lot about himself. Mainly things about himself that he hadn't already known because he'd never been such scum before. "Okay."

Alfons' mind was so empty at that moment he didn't have the mental capacity to call Edward back, apologise and leave himself. God, he was such a dick why did he do this to himself…?

Alfons jumped at a slight click.

That was the door closing. Alfons suddenly realised exactly what he'd done, and it had been not in the least bit heroic, loyal or pleasant. He'd just thrown a young man to the vultures because he was too scared to own up to something that was _not _Edward's fault.

Alfons – he told himself harshly – don't you dare cry. You have no right. You have no right.

He was still crying – God, he hated himself, why was he like this? Why was he such a spineless wimp whose mistakes always fucked up everyone elses lives. Had he just hurt a friend because he was proud of his country? His country, which was killing thousands of people every day because it was sour after the Wall Street Crash, after the WWI bill. His country, which would shoot wonderful, obscure, slightly batty Edward without a second thought at point-black range to the head?

He wished they'd shoot him instead.

"Britain and France have declared war on Germany," said the radio obnoxiously.

**The one in January, that's an actual quote from Hitler's speech, and also, just to clear up, Ed and Alfons went to see Hitler make a speech in Munich. I don't know if he actually made the speech in Munich though. Also, the times of day that the radio broadcasts happen at, the broadcast words are my own, but the event happened, and I don't know what time of day they happened at, so I just made them up. But this is probably the most factually correct chapter I've done yet! It's just kind of bridging the gap between Hitler's campaign to take over, and the final declaration on war.**

**At the very end there, where Alfons thoughts and the narrative get a bit muddled up, that's on purpose. Just so you know.**

**Well. I think I might end this at C! I have an end worked out. See you next chapter guys, don't forget to review! (Hay, if you had the time to read it).**

**~BS**


	10. Imperception

**I thought I'd better get on with these last 2 chapters before I forgot my ending.**

Edward had heard, in his time on Earth, that across the big stretch of sea called the Atlantic there was a place called America where it was _warm_ in September.

But in central Europe, it was not. It was very cold. And Edward was feeling it.

He'd forgotten to pick up his coat, but he wasn't going back for it. If Alfons wanted him gone, then that was how it would be. Edward was feeling a lot of things at that time, and along with the cold, there was still that pride. He'd be fine on his own, thanks.

But on with that was a kind of shame that he had no idea of the origins, and then a hurt that was like a knife wound to the gut and he knew _exactly _where that had come from.

There was a sort of empty sorrow that came with being banished from what had become a home when he hadn't been watching by the man who had become an elder brother and roll model when his back had been turned.

It was raining now.

The autumnal colours which had been swirling around him until now were suddenly much less pretty when they were soggy with rain and decomposing in the cracks between the cobbles.

Edward found a tavern that, judging by the flickering lights in the windows, was being warmed by welcoming open fires. He didn't go in though. Even though he'd turned seventeen while in Germany, he had no intention to drown his sorrows in drink, and he had absolutely no wants to end up in some kind of conversation with _anyone_.

Edward looked to either side of the pub. To the right was a red brick bay windowed house stuck to its side, to the left was a narrow alleyway in which were a bin full of glass bottles and a few empty metal kegs. Edward slipped in the narrow dark space and sat on the keg. It was damp from the drizzling rain and cold seeped into his thighs. He leant his head against the wall of the pub, the noise of loud German accents making it through the plaster, insulation and bricks.

He thought over what had happened.

Alfons was a person who disliked confrontation and was generally quite passive. Edward had often been rude to him in the past, and he'd not really reacted like Edward was used to people reacting to rudeness in his world. Alfons was a very well-mannered person, and therefore, he must have said something to hurt him.

What was consumption?

Edward couldn't even translate the world into English, which he had a better understanding of root words and formation.

Verbrauch.

There was nothing else for it but to ask someone.

Edward jumped down from his make-shift seat and exited the alley into the narrow streets. He wandered further from the flat, looking to pass someone who didn't look drunk or too scary.

Finally, he came across a young man wrapped up for the cold, though his pale face was still sporting a nose that was bright red.

"Excuse me?" Edward asked the man, who couldn't have been older than twenty. The man jumped and opened his mouth as if to protest. Upon seeing who had called to him, he relaxed.

"Sorry, but can you tell me what 'consumption' is?" Edward asked, suddenly very aware that even though his German was good, his accent was still noticeable.

The man seemed surprised at such a random question, but answered anyway.

"Do you not speak German as your first language?" the man asked, confused. Edward shook his head, nervously. Pointing out his differences in Nazi-Germany was not a clever thing to do. The man laughed quietly at his fearful expression.

"It's okay," he said, smiling. He moved his scarf to show a yellow Star of David attached to the collar of his coat. "You have more on me than I can ever have on you."

Oddly comforted, Edward nodded. "Consumption. My friend said consumption. And told me to leave."

The Jewish man looked at him sadly. "If your friend has consumption, he was probably right to ask you to leave."

"And why is that?" Asked Edward, feeling a little nervous.

"Sir, I don't even know you, and even still I hate to tell you that if your friend _has _consumption, he has tuberculosis, do you know what that is?"

Edward shook his head.

"Tuberculosis is a fatal lung disease that is also very contagious." The man explained gravely. "It is nicknamed consumption because it is said that the disease eats away at a person – since one of the most prominent symptoms is to lose a lot of weight."

"I see." Edward muttered. "What else can you tell me about it, just so I know."

The man thought for a moment, seeming to realise that a lot rested on his answer, and therefore wanting to answer it properly.

"Well it almost always comes with a chronic cough," he said, scratching his chin. "And a tiredness and loss of appetite, and if I told you anything else, it could be wrong."

Edward was left with a very hard decision which he answered very quickly.

"Thank you!" he said, and ran back the way he came.

For a second, the man was startled, before calling after him in surprise.

"Hey! Don't go back there! Don't go back there if he's got consumption you idiot!" he shouted, and (rather startling himself) began to run after Edward.

The two of them didn't get far, however, before out of nowhere, a hand knocked Edward off his feet. The Jew managed to stop before he stepped on the younger man, but was too late to catch him.

Edward sat up and rubbed the back of his head with his real hand where it had smacked hard on the wet cobbles. He could see a massive headache coming on in a few minutes. He looked up to see a stocky man in a sickly dark green, but undeniably smart uniform looking down at him.

"Papers." Said the soldier in a commanding tone. Edward stood slowly, glancing at the red band on the man's arm that told everyone of his cause and his alliance.

Out of his coat, Edward pulled a piece of paper that was getting rather battered looking that showed his picture, and a variation of his name that he wasn't very happy with. He handed them to the soldier.

"Edward Hohenheim-Elric?"

Edward nodded.

"You're British." Said the soldier, flicking the paper where it said this false information. Edward nodded again.

"Your father is German?"

"Yes." Edward replied, trying to feel defiant, but truly, people in this world scared him more than people in his own. He couldn't fight his way out of what this man might do to him if his 'heritage' didn't meet up with his standards.

The Nazi solder thrust the papers back at Edward after he finished reading them with an oddly threatening glance and held his hand out for the Jew's, who gave a shaky sigh and handed them over. The Nazi soldier read over them, glancing from the star on his coat to the large red word 'JUDE' stamped across his papers.

"What are you two doing together?" asked the soldier, practically sneering at them both. Edward hated that he would never have taken this shit back in his world, but in this world, he was boarding on terrified.

"We just met in the street. About five minutes ago."

The soldier frowned. "Your forgetting something," he said to Edward, back-handing him across the cheek. Edward was furious, somewhere deep in his stomach, but all he said was; 'Sir.'

"Better. What was this about 'consumption' that I heard?" He asked. Edward noticed that there was a small crowd gathering. Edward felt sick.

"I- I – I was just going to tell my friend that he mustn't have consumption after the information from this good doctor I crossed paths with," Edward made up, trying to show both himself, the Jew and Alfons in a good light. However the effect wasn't really the one desired.

"This man is a doctor?" asked the soldier, pointing at the Jewish man, who didn't contradict Edward.

He was going to be killed by this soldier anyway, he thought, and so he might as well save two more lives. This boy didn't deserve to die.

The Jew nodded. The Nazi pulled a gun from what had seemed to Edward like nowhere, and fired.

~*~Charismatich~*~

Alfons was at a loss of what to do. He couldn't just stay here and leave Edward, but then, he couldn't really ask for him to come back and apologise, because it was only putting him in more danger. What he would love to do would be to switch places with Edward and give him the flat, but even then he knew it was the same. When he died, all of his possessions would be burnt.

In the end, he concluded that the longer he stood debating about it, the further away Edward could be, so he went to his room and quickly changed into the clothes he'd been wearing yesterday, neglecting his braces and to brush his hair. He didn't even bother switching off the lights as he got his coat and yanked the door open, though on second thought, he stopped and took Edward's too. He'd be freezing.

Edward had never been more than a mile out of Munich while Alfons had known him, so he probably hadn't gone very far, and taken a path that he knew, so in an attempt to think like Edward's subconscious, he headed, at a run, in the general direction of the library.

After running around fruitlessly for about ten minutes with no sign of Edward and wheezing quite noticeably, Alfons slowed down, trying to think of another place Edward might have gone. Maybe towards the park.

Just as the thought entered his mind, the sharp crack that was unmistakably a gunshot rang out, startlingly loud, through the blackness. Alfons jumped, and then felt the cold creep into his lungs.

He was willing to bet more marks than he had that that had been something to do with Edward.

Without a second thought, he ran towards the sound of the shot. Edward could not be dead. He wouldn't allow it.

"Edward!" Alfons called, his voice cracking through the night about as effectively as the gunshot.

Alfons caught sight of Edward's unmistakable strawberry-blonde hair down the cobbled road that they'd seen Hitler make his speech on. Relief flooded through him and he staggered to a halt, hands on his knees, trying not to cough too loudly. Edward was standing. Edward was fine.

Of course, then Alfons saw the rest of the scene. The Nazi soldier holding a gun and the man lying on the cobbles on his side, his blood mixing with the rain on the pavement as it flowed from the gunshot wound in his head as he lay at Edward's feet and Edward's white faced expression as he stared, wide-eyed, at the man he'd just met minutes ago, but none-the-less had left a hole in his heart.

"Edward!" Alfons shouted - his mind seemed jammed on the scene that had met his eyes and all he could think was that he had the get Edward out of there, though he could barely speak for coughing.

Edward finally snapped out of his trance as he heard Alfons' unmistakable voice calling his name. He raised his head shakily and so did the soldier, his gun moving in the direction of his gaze.

"Thank God," Alfons panted, holding his stomach to try and stop the convulsions of his diaphragm. Despite his efforts, and to his horror, what seemed like a ton of blood inside of his mouth made it past his lips and trickled down his chin.

Alfons froze, his gaze resting on Edward's ashen face, his yellow eyes watching Alfons, full of guilt and fear.

Making good use of the lack of attention on him, the Nazi soldier cocked his gun again, the barrel lined up to Alfons' stomach.

A second shot broke the silence of the night.

**This wasn't meant to happen at the beginning but… **

**I nearly cried writing this. And I feel sorry for my lovely Jewish man who died so soon after his introduction.**

**Jews were not allowed to be doctors in Nazi Germany. It was against the law. They were also not allowed to be out at night. My soldier probably would have let him off for the curfew if Edward hadn't have told such a stupid lie.**

**I don't usually write such dark stories, but this story became steadily darker while I wasn't watching. Like how Alfons crept into Ed's heart. *Smile***

**Last chapter was a bit stingy for reviews. I'd really like it if you just dropped by after here and said your bit. We have one more chapter to go before the end; I just kind of want to know who's still following and what you think about how things have moved on.**

**So yeah…**

**See you next chapter.**

**~BS**


	11. Constant

Edward's scream could be heard for miles and for the following few minutes, lights flicked on all around the park. Edward's mind shut down in shock and everything else was wiped from his thoughts.

Alfons had been shot. Edward's head was filled with the image of the older man as he froze and then keeled over, lying on his side on the ground, the murky rain water that had collected in the cobbles seeping into the fabric of his shirt and mixing with his slowly darkening pool of red.

Edward stumbled and fell on the un-even ground as he ran the short distance towards Alfons lying slumped on the ground.

Alfons could not be dead.

Edward fell to his knees, sending a sharp pain up his left leg as his kneecap hit the hard cobbles. Alfons just stared at him from oddly open eyes under his blond hair dripping rain drops onto his nose.

"Alfons?" Edward whispered, tugging at the sleeve of his coat. He noticed then that in Alfons' arms was his own coat. Edward wanted to smile, but it just couldn't happen.

"It came out wrong," Alfons muttered, catching Edward by surprise. Blood still trickled from the corner of his mouth into the tiny rainwater rivers between the stones. It was so undignified. This whole thing was undignified. No one should have to die in the street, wet, in the cold having been shot and coughing up their own lungs. No one should have to die where they were so frowned upon that in the small crowd of people that saw the soon-to-be murder, no one would come near for fear of their own lives.

Of course, that was fine, because Alfons was not going to die.

"What did?" Edward asked, noticing that his hands were shaking. He looked at Alfons' just to see if her was the only one. Alfons' hands looked like mottled red spiders in the cold clutching his stomach.

"I- I didn't mean it like that," Alfons muttered desperately, looking so hard at Edward he was almost glaring at him. Well, Edward needed to know that he hadn't meant to throw him onto the streets as if he didn't care about him.

Edward was just blank, his mind was far too concerned that Alfons seemed to be dying in the dark streets of Munich and that he was pretty much powerless to stop him to be thinking back to some trivial dispute that happened just over an hour ago. What did it matter?

"I'm sorry, okay?" Alfons practically growled, sounding angry. Edward was so surprised to hear that awful sound (his threatening voice, and then combined with that horrible gurgling) come out of such a well-mannered person that he just stared and then nodded frantically.

"Okay," Edward agreed quickly. Alfons stopped glaring at him so awfully and looked up at the night sky. The rain clouds were still lingering, but between them there were bright patches of sky filled with moonlight and stars. Edward followed his gaze. It was certainly pretty, he could see why Alfons wanted to be up there.

"Good," said Alfons quietly. "I brought your coat, by the way. I thought you might be cold."

Edward didn't answer other than to smile and to wrap his hands around the older man's whose cold hands were still clutching his now sopping wet coat as he continued to look to the sky.

When he looked down, Alfons' eyes reflected the stars.

Thick fog filled the inside of Edward's head and he felt his eyes cloud over with tears before the cold metal of a gun struck him hard on the temple and he too keeled over, the sound of heavy boots clicking on the cobbles all he could hear before the world went black.

~*~Charismatich~*~

Everyone slowly left the scene, after all, the solder was perfectly within his rights, and there was nothing they could do to help either. And after all, who'd want to go near a consumptive and a Jew? The other should know better not to be in such company.

Of course, in all the cowardly people that passed the scene and stepped back, disgusted by the morbid sight, there was one man who stopped and helped.

And if it hadn't have been for his smart but sickly green uniform and that red band, his actions would have been accepted, however it was because of them that people frowned in confusion.

He didn't really mind at this point, what the thoughts of others were.

This SS Soldier saw the body of the Jew lying in the middle of the road, the blood and gore having washed off his face thanks to the drizzling rain only a few minutes ago. And he saw the man with white blond hair lying a few metres away staring with wide eyes at the sky, his hands still clutching a bright red coat that was now soiled with dirt, rain and blood. He saw the young man lying on the ground next to him, his long hair soaking up the rain water as he shivered having been out in the cold in only thin clothes for so long and could only think that this was what he was fighting for.

And he threw his hat to the ground in disgust in himself.

And of course, one soldier could not make up for what an army had done, but that was no reason to carry on doing something he felt he'd been misled into. And he couldn't walk away from this scene and not help.

The soldier thought on what to do. Two of them were obviously dead, but the youngest appeared to simply be unconscious, so he rummaged around in the blond's coat pockets until he came across his papers in a crumpled ball.

Smiling in triumph, the soldier unravelled them and skimmed though the information.

"Edward Hohenheim-Elric, British, right… and you just live up the road-"

"Who the fuck are you?" groaned a small voice from the ground. The soldier looked down to see two golden slits glaring it him from under his yellow hair.

"My name is Harri. You are Edward, yes?"

Edward glared at him. "What the fuck do you care? If you're going to shoot me, just go ahead. And if you're going to give me your name, do it properly."

Edward realised that this man was clearly SS, but at this point, he couldn't care less. After all, he was stuck in this world on his own. After all, Alfons was dead.

Edward felt hot tears prickle at his eyes as he reminded himself.

Harri was quiet for a few moments in shock. Through all the recent events in Germany, he'd been treated with everything from contempt and fear to mobs of support, but never in that time had he been back-chatted by a teenager.

"My name is Harrison Bar. I'd like to apologise for what has happened here, but I know that's not nearly enough."

Edward narrowed his eyes. "Why are you talking with compassion whilst you wear that uniform?" he muttered, sitting up and holding his sore head in his hands, looking anywhere but at Alfons.

Harri thought seriously about the question, and his answer was little more than a mutter.

"Because I got dressed with my eyes closed, it seems."

Edward scowled at nothing in particular. "Soldiers shouldn't talk in riddles. Now shoot me or leave."

Harri stood and pulled Edward to his feet by the elbow. Edward did little to stop him. He felt not dissimilar to a piece of elastic that had been overused one time too many. He couldn't bring himself to retaliate.

Standing up, it was hard not to look at the person lying cold and stiff on the floor that could have once been called Alfons Heiderich, but now, he couldn't associate the name with the _thing_ before him. He looked at the body's stiff, white face and gagged.

"Your brother?" asked Harri quietly. Edward didn't bother to reply. H erefused to have a meaningful conversation with a man who was okay with parading around in _that_ uniform.

Harri bent down and hauled Alfons' body into his arms. Edward's jaw locked in fury of a man wearing _that_ symbol to be carrying his friend, but said nothing on the subject.

"What are you doing with him?" Edward demanded. Harri started walking.

"Taking him home."

Edward had no sound to come to his open mouth, so he just stood there, gawping as angrily as he could.

"I don't think so!" he finally managed to screech out. "I don't bloody think so! Fuck off! How many times do I have to tell you to fuck off! I don't want your help, I don't want your charity, I don't want to hear your 'you've changed me' speech! If you want to change your fucking ways you should have been here an hour ago when two people were killed for nothing!"

Harri looked surprised. He was a man of books and novels, and hadn't really expected Edward's reaction at all. He just wanted to help, he just wanted to make up for _something_.

But when you looked at things properly, all of those reasons were selfish.

"I'm not taking help from a man who has ever worn that uniform, or ever hailed that fucking swastika whatever it is. I don't care if you put on your uniform with your eyes closed, I know what that means, I know what you're trying to say! If you feel so mislead into the law you've been enforcing and the man you've been protecting, you should have walked out the moment things became clear! Now is far too late to be trying to make up for these mistakes that you helped create. I hope you're realise that you're holding a man who was 100 times more German that the only person who was left alive in this incident. I hope you realise that you're holding a man who was killed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I hope you realise," Edward hissed, his voice having toned down from a screech to a threatening whisper, "that the man who's clearly been overlooked by you and everybody who has walked passed this scene and decided that to do something was not their place is still lying alone in the road, and if there is someone who you should be assisting, if not to prove yourself, but to at least lend a hand where you're wanted, it's that man there." Edward pointed to the lone, sorry looking figure still lying cold and neglected in the middle of the road.

Edward took Alfons from the willing hands of the staring soldier, spat at his feet and began the slow walk home.

~*~Chraismatich~*~

After the death of Alfons, things only got worse for Germany in general. When it was discovered that Alfons had had tuberculosis Edward was taken to be tested and not long after, both his and Alfons' possessions were burnt. The flat was then sterilised from top to bottom and Edward decided that he couldn't go back there after they'd washed away any homeliness he'd ever felt in the country.

Edward didn't go to Alfons' funeral. He knew what day it was, and he wasn't busy, but he simply hung around in the park until he assumed it was over, and then went to visit the grave by himself.

Edward sat down on the grass at the back of the stone, leaning his back against it.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to the funeral. I hate funerals." He said quietly, looking at the sky.

Edward didn't believe in ghosts or of Heaven and Hell, but it only seemed right to explain himself. And somehow it felt like someone was listening.

"I finished your research notes for the aerodynamics of a rocket propelled dummy plane, which is great as an accomplishment for the both of us, but I have the feeling that your research is being used by the SS Military for weapons. A doodlebug is a huge bomb that whistles in the sky as it passes. They're going to drop them on London, in England. I don't know if you'll be happy to know or not, but Britain, France, Russia and all those guys are fighting back. It'll just weaken your country again, but if I'm honest, it's this country's fault for not learning from its own mistakes.

Also, I was doing some research of my own, and since really, you became the only reason why I did not go mad in this world, I suppose there is no reason for me to still be here without a purpose when I care very little for this country at all.

But anyway, my theory is that, there can only be one of a person in any world at any one time. It's an idea I got from the homunculi, and Alphonse bringing me back to life. But if this theory is true, then there might be a chance that Alphonse made it over to this world, and so you had to die.

Which is unfair on you, I know, but at least you death has meant something. And I think that was all you wanted, really, wasn't it? To mean something?

And think about it, if you regard energy, and that energy can never cease to exist, then where does the energy of a soul go?

I had a parallel in this world, who died, and then I came to be in this world, and so there was one of me, but think, imagine two people co-existing in two parallel universes, which are just mirrors of each other. One seems unreal to the other.

Well imagine that those two co-existing people have some kind of link, like an electric charge, that joins their souls and they are balanced because one person is on one side of the mirror, and one is on the other.

But if you stepped into a mirror, your mirror image would cease to exist. And there would only be the person who went to meet their other self in the mirror. These two people cannot make contact with each other, because they are too alike - which also backs up the theory of opposites attracting. So if one of these people steppes into the world of the other, it is the only way for one of them to cease to exist without the other becoming none existent as well.

For the two people to vanish from a mirror, both of them must leave. A person can just die, but then their parallel would also die, in their parallel world.

But to simply be one's own self, a person must journey to the parallel and therefore kill their other self, and then they are free to pass between worlds. If my theory proves correct, than I am this kind of person, and assuming that Alphonse didn't die in our world at the same time that you died in this one, then he must be in this world somewhere, and is like me.

Of course, this is good news, but you cannot gain anything without sacrifice, and that is the law of alchemy.

Alchemy can be used to travel between worlds, so the law applies. You lose your alchemy in the other world, and you lose your other self. So you lose the means of getting here, meaning you cannot escape, almost as a punishment for being too nosy, and you lose your reason for being here, and if you figured out how to cross, you must have figured out the parallel theory, and therefore your reason for crossing would be to meet your other self. So you are stuck here with no reason for being, and that is an ultimate punishment - to have a meaningless life.

Of course, I was simply thrown here, so the rules do not fully apply. I lost my alchemy, yes, but you have been here, giving me meaning to life, and then if the theory stands, Alphonse is still alive, and he is here, and so he is my reason now."

Edward was silent for a moment, almost trying to find a flaw in his theory. Finally, he found one.

"Of course, everything can just be as it seems, and you are dead, and this is the end, and I must find my own way out, which means that this is all a fabrication in my head to make me feel better. But if that's the case, I might as well peruse it."

"Thank you, I suppose. If nothing else, your being here will have driven me on, and I will certainly never forget your contribution to my life. However, I know that you strived to never be forgotten, and so if this theory proves correct, it is the Heiderich Theory. Which in a nutshell, is that a man should at least be able to accomplish the act of making another man happy. And that co-existence is not a lot to ask."

**End**

**Thank you all so much! This is the end! I'd love to hear what you thought of my theory!**

**Also, I'm quite happy with this ending, because you can never just LEAVE Edward alone, can you? It's just against the rules to leave Ed by himself, because in all fairness, Edward couldn't live without an Alphonse, he'd just kill himself. **

**The Heiderich Theory. I made it so believable, I'm starting to believe it myself. I might start a religion!**

**Thank you so much for reading through to the end and reviewing and favourite-ing and so forth.**

**Go out and spread the word of this fanfic that I am so unbelievably proud of! But not before you drop a line here!**

**~BS**


	12. AN Extra Info and Explanations

So this is just something between an afterward and an author's note in which I'm going to explain the events of WWII that are brought up in this story, some explanations of how things were (as I understand) at the time, which might explain events more and also an explanation of the nature of Alfons' death. (If you don't want a history lesson, just skip down to the bottom and please read the explanation of Alfons' death.

Firstly though, all my information about WWII for this story was either my own knowledge (which is either from school, my dad, or my own general nerdiness) and then The History Place Holocaust Timeline. The segment of Hitler's speech was also from The History Place.

So, a little bit of a time-line-y thing that sort of puts the story into perspective.

July '34 - when the story started.

Jews are prohibited from getting legal qualifications.

Before that, basically, Jews were stripped of little rights like this in the years leading up to this. Polish Jews in Germany had also been stripped of their citizenship.

Basically, through the years after that, and through the chapters that are more like one shots than actual storyline, the old Fuhrer dies, and Hitler becomes Fuhrer and the 90% vote gives him his powers.

In short, the Jews are then basically made a mockery of and treated as a general lower class race due to laws that say they are to join this, join that and such. I don't want this to be a history lesson!

In August 36 there is a campaign set up to combat homosexuality and abortion. I just thought I'd put that in because Hitler didn't just get at the Jews, it was pretty much any minority group.

Everything from blacks, to gays to people with glasses were targeted during the holocaust. In fact, this might not be true… but I'm sure when we studied the Holocaust last year in history I was told that blacks were gassed. (well that's me done for saying as I'm specky and mixed raced!)

Oh! And lets not forget, Jews were prohibited from going to school with German children and Jewish teachers were prohibited. Also, it was taught to German children in German schools 'how to recognise a Jew.'

It's almost comical, but… Not really.

Moving on, by '38 we have the law prohibiting Jews from becoming doctors (as in the penultimate chapter) and that Jewish papers have to be stamped with a red 'J.' (Note 'JUDE' (the German word for Jew) as I had in the penultimate chapter. But I Wanted to have some German words in to remind everyone where we were!)

In January '39 Hitler does his speech threatening the Jews that appears in… I can't remember which chapter. But you know.

Then in Dec '39 Britain and France declare war on Germany.

Here we go. In Sept '39 Warsaw surrenders (that's the Polish capital if you didn't know) and HEYDRICH becomes leader of the RSHA. Well hello hello. (His first name was Reinhard I think)

The only person to be hanged at Auschwitz was Heydrich, the same place where he killed thousands and thousands of people. Personally, I think he should have been gassed in his own chamber but…

So that's the short history of WWII that is relevant to Charismatic. Also, I think it's a little unfair that Heiderich has obviously had his name inspired by this man but whatever. If you have a history test, you're sure to remember Reinhard Heydrich. The dickhead of recent history.

Basically, as my understanding is, (and obviously as a fourteen year old Brit, I never experienced Nazi Germany) here is how the general vibe was, if you didn't know. Based of GCSE History, a good teacher, general interest and a lot of inferring.

Germany was in a really bad way after WWI. They'd lost money, troops and weapons to WWI and pretty much most of Europe and some other places were pretty pissed off with them. Especially Britain and France. WWI was fought mostly between Britain and Germany on French land (of course, there were other countries fighting, it was a WORLD WAR) but the Allies (that's Britain, France, America, Russia, China and that lot) were convinced (especially France) that Germany started it, and so Germany was going to pay for it. Germany was already in debt - the war had struck there too, and now they were being made to pay back France for damages.

It was around this time that the mark was worth pretty much nothing and it was said that German workers would run from work to the market with a wheelbarrow full of marks and the quicker they got there, the more food they got because the worth of the mark fell so quickly. This is referenced in The Conqueror of Shamballa when Hughes and a bunch of punters are talking and they are on about how his money is more useful for slapping him around the face than for actually buying any beer.

And then there was the Wall Street Crash.

(My history teacher told me this quote, BTW) When America sneezes, the rest of the world catches a cold.

America's bust after the boom in the twenties hit German HARD. Germany was a big trader with America and since Germany was broke and America was RICH, America was Germany's only strong point, but when America went, Germany basically passed out.

There were no jobs, no food, no money. Think The Great Depression, but in Europe. Everyone forgets about the Great Depression's effect on Germany. In some cases, it was to the point where people could not afford to feed their families, if anyone was still in work, their pay was abysmal. You get the idea.

And then Hitler comes to light. An old soldier and a man who had big promises and more importantly, someone to blame.

The Jews.

Now, the Treaty of the Versailles that was passed by the Allies meant that every country that took part was to be weapon less, among other, irrelevant things. The Treaty was basically passed to stop Germany staring another war because Germany was VERY GOOD at starting wars, and Britain just couldn't cope financially or (in a way) psychologically, with another war. And everyone knows that if there is a war, Britain _has to get involved_. It's just tradition. (I mean other countries had their reasons for keeping a close eye on Germany, but I'm British. So neither do I know or care!)

Also, Germany was to surrender ALL of it's overseas colonies and 10% of it's land.

But of course, Hitler wasn't going to let that stop him. Upon becoming Fuhrer, he removed Germany from the Act, meaning that they could be armed, so basically rendered the treaty useless.

I'd say, on a guess, about 75% of Germany was pro-Hitler in the beginning. You know, when he was just saying about how he could remove the country from the act, so that they weren't following the rules of any big headed countries like Britain and were free to build up the economy and a positive attitude.

Hitler was a real pro at what he was doing to the German public, I just want to point that out. I know that Edward often bashes Germany's stupidity, but Hitler knew what he was doing. There are theories out that he just trundled along, making daring guesses and coming out on top, but personally, I think that he knew exactly where he was going.

And he knew how to work a crowd. Germany was falsely lead into what was happening, basically. Of course, when Hitler started to be blaming the Jews, people started to realise what was going on. Though a good few went along with it, people would have been starting to catch on, but there was basically nothing they could do, because if you helped a Jew, then you were basically a Jew, and Jews might as well have been illegal.

Moving on from the politics lesson and onto the 'home front.'

After a few years, the fear was really in there, and that was about when the last two chapters are set. When minorities were being killed off and Hitler was really treating Germany like a game of Sims.

Jews were sent to ghettos and slowly starved. They were made to dig their own graves, watched by SS Soldiers, and then shot. And of course, their accomodation was raded, they were carted off to camps on overcrowded trains and trucks and then made to work all hours, left in horrible conditions and then gassed, their bodies burnt.

So, if we consider the chapter in which the market square is set on fire and Edward goes out to help, basically what happened there was that Edward ended up assisting someone climbing from the window of the bookshop, was spotted and had a brick thrown at his head. Simple. If you want to think that they did it because they were a Nazi supporter, then fine, or if you want to think that they did it to save Edward from the worse fate of being caught by the SS, then fine. It really doesn't matter, so I didn't put it in.

So just sort of consider that general fear when considering the last two chapters as well. Edward's reaction to the soldier who killed Alfons and the Jew, I didn't want him to fight back with two prophetic limbs, because he'd just be killed, realistically. The soldier knocked him out using the butt of his gun when passing. If that wasn't clear.

The other soldier. Basically, Edward had lost his only reasons for living. Alfons and Alphonse, at that point, and so he really didn't give a shit, so he made a point. Also, I know that he and the soldier share a little back and forth that is quite poetic. I just wanted Edward to say 'do not speak with compassion whilst you wear that uniform.' I like that line.

And 'It seems I got dressed with my eyes closed.' Was basically 'I put on this uniform not fully understanding what I was setting myself up for.'

And finally and most importantly, the reason Alfons' death was as it was.

I've had a couple of people saying that Alfons' death was abrupt.

And it was. I'm going to explain why his death was so undignified, pointless and abrupt.

Basically, it was because it would have been unfair on every other ordinary person in the Holocaust who was killed in some horrific way that was mentioned above. I don't see why Alfons should have got a fair, heroic death when so many other people were stripped of that right, like the Jewish man who was shot dead, and who knew he was going to be shot dead, for no reason. I wanted Alfons to just be killed, and be done, because the world keeps on spinning and people kept on dying and Alfons was just a speck, really.

Also, the way that this story was set out literature wise meant that there was no REAL plot other than their lives, and Al's death was just a part of their lives.

It's sort of hard to explain what I'm getting at here, but I hope you understand.

Lastly, thank you all for reading and reviewing and faving. It means so much! You have no idea how excited I get for reviews, it's like Christmas!

Anyway, if you write any Alfons Heiderich fics, feel free to PM me about them, because I will read and review. I do love a bit of Hei. Or basically anything WWII ish.

Everyone likes to get reviews, and you know it!

See ya!

~BS


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